


Follow Your Heart

by sleapyGazelle



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Childhood Friends, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Main characters are in their mid to late twenties, POV Lance (Voltron), Rating for language throughout and female nudity in chapter 6, Romantic Comedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-26
Updated: 2017-12-26
Packaged: 2019-02-18 00:03:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 25,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13088241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleapyGazelle/pseuds/sleapyGazelle
Summary: Lance is a free spirit, notoriously unlucky in love but content to keep trying. When he gets a call from his childhood friend Keith inviting him to his wedding, realization hits Lance like a ton of bricks: he's been in love this whole time.With Keith.Lance is now a man on a mission: break up the wedding and get Keith to fall in love with him.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> My piece for the klance big bang 2! Based on an Indian movie called "Mere Yaar ki Shaadi Hai." Featuring art by [Mojo](https://mojo-arts.tumblr.com)! 
> 
> [Fic playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/22oqud5rolii3bcpqloldew4a/playlist/50X70x1i3UhABcWK3E2I0O). (Thanks to [wolfWisp](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainingWolf/profile) and [Nabulos](https://nabulos.tumblr.com) for suggesting songs!)
> 
> Many thanks to [wolfWisp](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainingWolf/profile) and [Bluphacelia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bluphacelia/profile) for beta'ing and dealing with this fic when it was at its roughest and full of plot holes. Special thanks to [ CLD](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cldjendis66/profile) for helping me make the depiction of Miami more faithful. You guys are the real MVPs!

The warm summer night breeze ruffled his hair as he sat on the fountain’s edge. Washington Square Arch to his back, he looked out over the shadows of the park. His chest felt heavy and his throat tight as he sighed deeply, shoulders slouching further down. Breakup songs playing softly from his headphones, he thumbed through the same handful of pictures on his phone for the umpteenth time. 

“You know what your problem is, Lance?” demanded an irritated voice next to him, snapping him back to attention. 

“What, Pidge? What's my problem?” he shot back, equally miffed, because what was the point of having your friend sit next to you while you wallowed in your own misery if she was only going to be mean? Then again, this was Pidge; so, joke was on him. As per usual. 

“You're just not good at being in a relationship,” she told him matter-of-factly. 

“This is not the best time to be roasting me,” he whined, gazing mournfully at his phone again. Good thing he'd disabled the auto-lock. Now he could stare at his favorite picture of his ex with minimal effort. 

“I always roast you, Lance,” Pidge pointed out. “It's the foundation of our friendship.” 

Lance resisted the urge to snort. He was  _ wallowing.  _ “I've just had my heart broken,” he reminded Pidge, before turning back to his phone. “How could you do this to me, Nyma? After twenty beautiful days together.” 

Pidge got to her feet. Apparently she had had enough. “It's the eighth time this year!” she exclaimed, crossing her arms. 

He looked up at her sadly. He'd heard of being unlucky in love, but this had to be some sort of record. It wasn't exactly what he'd expected when he'd been voted ‘most likely to make it big’ at his college graduation. 

Pidge sighed, tone softening a notch as she said, “Well. Do what you need to and get over it. Like you did all the other times.”

“You know, sometimes I feel your tough love could use a little less tough and a little more love,” he muttered. 

“You're sappy enough for the two of us,” she replied, voice undeniably fond. 

Lance allowed himself a chuckle before turning to his phone with purpose. He gave Nyma one last long gaze before deleting the photos. Selfies of him kissing her, solitary pictures of her being cute. One after the other, he tapped that trash can icon. With a sigh he glanced up, only to find Pidge already walking away. 

Pausing his music and pocketing his phone, he jumped up to his feet, the usual spring back in his step. “Yo wait up.” He walked along the fountain’s edge then jumped onto the ground right behind her. “Don't worry about me, I'm a-okay,” he assured her. With the sadness out of his system now, he mostly meant it. 

Knowing he was following, she kept walking, headed toward their shared apartment. 

“I know this was the eighth time in less than a year, but I'm not gonna let this get me down,” he said to her retreating back. “You can change the world if you follow your heart, Pidge.” 


	2. An Insane Theory

“NO!” Lance cried out, as his screen faded to gray, and a timer started counting down the seconds until he could be revived. “ _ Pidge _ ,” he accused, “I can't believe you didn't ult me.” 

“Uh, my ult was on cooldown,” she tried. 

_ “I saw your screen!” _ This was betrayal. 

“Alright fine,” she admitted. “I didn't ult you. That's what you get for insulting my hair the other day.” 

“I only asked if you were due for a haircut, jeez.” He would never admit it to her, but he aspired to be that petty. 

“You said I looked like a mushroom,” she reminded him. “Besides if you played better, I wouldn't  _ need _ to ult you. Now quit blaming me, and think about whether you want to change characters.” 

“Mercy, duh.” Because he was predictable, okay? So sue him. And sure enough, he picked Mercy when the screen came back on. 

“Again? Lance, you don’t even use her abilities properly. You’d play Bastion better.” 

Before Lance could think of a snappy comeback, his phone vibrated loudly on the desk. 

Pidge gave him a flat look. 

“Sorry!” He reached for his phone, meaning to silence the call, but his face lit up with a smile when he saw the screen: a grumpy face looking into the camera through raven bangs. He could clearly remember taking the picture the last time they’d met, many months back. He quit the game and tapped answer, ignoring Pidge’s indignant squawk of protest to yell “KEITH!” into the mic. 

_ “I forgot to turn my phone’s volume down before calling you.” _

“Sounds like a whole lotta  _ your _ problem.” He got up, absentmindedly walking around the room as he talked. “Anyway, how are you? How was LA? Did you take all the pictures I asked you to?”

_ “Calm down, Lance,”  _ Keith laughed.  _ “Yes, I took all your touristy photos. And LA is… something else. In a good way though.”  _ Keith sounded pensive, which reigned in Lance’s racing thoughts.  _ “Lance, I’m- I’m getting married.” _

“You’re what now?” Because there was no way he’d heard that right. 

_ “Get-ting mar-ried.” _

Yup, he definitely said that. Lance sat back down in his chair. “Yeah I  _ heard _ you, but holy shit. Where’d this come from?”

Keith chuckled.  _ “I mentioned him to you before, remember?” _

“That guy from the conference who you said hit on you?”

Keith hummed his agreement. 

“A guy hits on you once and you agree to marry him? C’mon Keith.”

_ “No, dumbass. He’s the reason I stayed back in LA after the conference. We’ve been dating.” _

“Why would you keep this from me?” Were all his friends betraying him today?

_ “Cause I knew you wouldn’t take me seriously. Listen—” _

“No,  _ you _ listen,” he interrupted. “Keith, my buddy, my man. You’re a hothead. But you can’t just impulsively…. The first gay guy that shows an interest in you—”

_ “Lance.” _

He sighed. “You’re right; I’m sorry.” 

_ “First of all, he’s bi. Anyway, I’m actually flying to Miami tonight.” _

“Home? But your old house was…” 

_ “Sold. Yeah. I’m staying with your family until the wedding.” _

So even his family knew before he did. Great. 

_ “So yeah, I need you in Miami as soon as possible. There’s lots of preparation to take care of, and you’re not getting out of your share. Shiro’s gonna meet me there too.” _

So even Keith’s cool friend from college knew before Lance did. Just great. “Yeah, for sure. I just have a few things to sort out at work, then I’ll be down there in a couple of days.” 

They said their goodbyes and hung up; and then it was Lance’s turn to be pensive. 

Pidge was watching him with interest, the game long-abandoned. “Someone’s… getting married?” she prompted. 

“Keith,” he replied unhelpfully, mind still miles away. “Keith’s getting married.” 

“Your childhood friend?”

He nodded, staring at the dimmed computer screen. Why was this so weird? People got married all the time. Lance knew this; he’d been to dozens of weddings. But  _ Keith _ … 

“That’s great news, right?” Pidge asked, a bit too knowingly for his liking. 

“Yup! Great news! I’m thrilled. No doubt,” he insisted, launching out of his seat to pace again. Wow, he needed to calm down. It almost sounded like he was trying to convince himself. But that was only because he was worried about his friend getting hitched too hastily. Nothing weird about a little concern. And the last thing he needed right now was for Pidge to read too much into his reaction. “I’m happy for him!” he tacked on, just to be safe. 

Pidge raised an amused eyebrow. “You don’t really look it.” 

“What? That’s ridiculous!” Was he sweating? “It’s just sudden, that’s all. I didn’t even know he was serious about someone. But of course I’m happy for him.” 

“Hmm.” Pidge swiveled in her chair, twirling a lock of short hair around her finger. 

“What?”

“Nothing,” she said, too casually to be true. “Seriously!” she insisted when he narrowed his eyes at her disbelievingly. “This is the same guy whose smile is really nice, yeah?”

Oh, she was just remembering stuff he’d told her about Keith. “Yeah,” he confirmed, relaxing. He really needed to chill; he was being overly suspicious. It wasn’t like Pidge was conspiring against him; she was his friend after all. 

“But really bad hair?” she added. 

“Yeah,” he cringed with his whole body. “Who has a  _ mullet _ anymore? In the year of our lord 2017?”

“Keith apparently.” 

“Ugh, don’t remind me.”

Pidge laughed, and patted the chair he’d abandoned. “Tell me more about him. I’ve learned some stuff since I’ve known you; but he’s your oldest friend and clearly means a lot to you. So I’d love to hear more.”

“Seriously?” he asked, sitting down again. He’d known Pidge since college, and she was one of his closest friends; but he never knew what to expect with her. 

“Yeah, man. He sounds really interesting.” 

“Okay!” He leaned back. “Fair warning, it’s a long story. Goes as far back as my earliest memories.” 

Pidge grinned. “All the better.” 

So he told her. Of two boys—five and six years old—chasing each other around a tree; of ice creams shared and lunches exchanged; of petty fights and fast make-ups. He told her how his family moved into the house next to Keith’s when Lance was five; and how Keith had been the shyest kid he’d ever met, perpetually pouting and clutching his red hippo plushie. And how Lance had been the polar opposite, constantly chattering away. He recounted how they’d hit it off right away and played together everyday after school. 

He told her of summers spent driving each other up the walls, but never apart; of knowing each other’s houses like their own—each other’s  _ families _ like their own. Lance came from a big family, which only grew over the years; while Keith was the only child of a single dad, who had passed away a few years back. 

He talked about the treehouse. A lot. 

He told Pidge about going off to different colleges after growing up together, about fond goodbyes at the airport, about skyping every so often.

The day wore on and wound down, and Lance kept talking. Pidge let him, listening with keen interest. “You gave me the life story Lance, but what’s he  _ like _ ?”

“Still as surly as the day I met him.” He described how he could read Keith’s face and voice better than anyone else, how Keith had different frowns for when he was embarrassed or irritated, or secretly fond. 

He told her about how Keith couldn’t boil water much less cook; and how Lance had given him a few cooking lessons the one time he visited him at his school for a weekend. About how they’d ended up bickering about nothing into the early hours of the morning until it was time for Lance to go home. 

Pidge let him ramble, and when his anecdotes finally trailed off, he refocused to find her pacing. 

“What?” he asked cautiously, getting suspicious again. “What’s cooking in that braincage of yours?”

“I’m debating whether to tell you,” she mused, watching him analytically.

Well now he was baited. “What the hell, Pidge? Just tell me.” 

“Hmm,” she went on, continuing to torture him. “It’s just that you’re not great at handling the truth.”

“ _ You're _ not good at handling the truth! You’re not good at handling  _ me _ ,” he shot back. He was… still working on getting better at comebacks.

She came to a stop in front of him and threw him an amused look. “Well you’re not wrong about the second one. I did break up with you a week after we started going out.”

“And then you immediately moved in with me. Why can’t all my breakups be like ours?”

She raised her eyebrows. “If you became housemates with all your exes, we’d need a mansion to fit everyone. Besides, NYC rent is insane, and I needed to share. It didn’t hurt that you’re easy to get along with. If only you were as easy to date.” 

“Okay let’s not get off track,” he groaned. “So what Grand Truth were you dying to share with me?”

She scoffed. “I was  _ debating _ .” 

“Oh please. You just want me to beg you to tell me. I know you, Pidgeot. So spill.” 

“Okay,” she relented. “But you need to promise you’ll hear me out. No ‘calling bullshit’ until I’ve finished talking.”

“Okay okay, you’re killing me with the suspense! Out with it already!”

“Here it is then.” She looked him right in the eyes, and said, “You’re in love with Keith.”

“I’m calling bull—” No. He’d promised. Plus he was a mature adult who could be civilized when people spewed nonsense. He gestured magnanimously for her to continue. 

She raised her eyebrows in an ‘are you sure’ expression. 

Yes he was sure.  _ Please finish, Pidge, so I can blow holes in your theory until it looks like a colander. _

With a determined look, Pidge continued. "You left Miami and moved to New York, but you didn't leave  _ all  _ of Miami behind. You brought Keith with you in your heart and mind. And when you got here, you subconsciously tried to look for him in everyone you dated. Your first girlfriend in college was that broody music major. Then, there was Flo, whose smile reminded you of Keith. Rax, who can’t cook, which made you think of Keith. And so on. Even me, Lance! It's ridiculous. My hair reminds you of Keith's mullet. Which I now realize is an insult—fuck you! But obviously it never worked out with any of us, because we were  _ like  _ Keith but we weren't Keith. And that's who your ideal was this whole time. That's who you were looking for without realizing it."

Lance let a few seconds pass in silence, to be completely sure that she was done. And when he was certain she'd finished, he asked, just to make sure. "Are you done?"

She nodded.

"No, are you  _ sure _ ? Because if you have more to say, please continue. I'm listening."

"No, Lance. I'm done. But obviously you're not ready to believe it."

"Um, because it's bullshit. There. I didn't interrupt you; I let you finish. But to be honest, that was the stupidest, most unfounded, dumbest theory I have ever heard,” he sputtered. “In my life!"

"Yeah okay. I told you you couldn't handle the truth."

"Pidge!" He was indignant. This was…unbelievable. The  _ disrespect _ ! "Keith and I are friends. Best friends. Why does everything have to be gay? Can't two dudes be buds without being accused of being gay for each other? This, this is exactly what's wrong with our society today. It's toxic masculinity. Two guys can't get close without getting called gay. And Pidge, as progressive as you are, I can't believe you think that too."

"Bruh,” she put up her hands in surrender. “Obviously there's nothing wrong with guys being friends. And everything  _ isn't  _ gay. Like not even close. But there is nothing straight about your relationship with Keith. You are majorly gay for him."

"There you go again. He's my friend!"

"Forget it. I can't deal with you when you're like this."

"Me? You're the one who's throwing these insane theories around."

“If it's not true, why is it bothering you this much? Clearly I've hit a nerve.”

“That's bull—”

“I'm forcing you to face the feelings you never allowed yourself to admit, not even to yourself. That's why you're reacting like this.”

“I never admitted them because they're not true. He's my friend, why can't you accept that?”

“You're the one who can't accept—”

“Pidge—”

“Look Lance, I'm going to bed.”

“What? You barely sleep! Since when do you 'go to bed'?”

“Goodnight.”

“Pidge,” he called after her as she stalked off into her room. “You're wrong.”

She slammed the door.

“He's my friend! No one ever listens to me. Fine! I don't want to talk to you either!” Lance stomped off toward his own bedroom. "He's just my friend!" he shouted over his shoulder one last time, before slamming his door shut. 

He threw himself onto his bed, still grumbling. Keith was getting married, and the last thing he needed was more stress.  _ Thanks, Pidge _ . The minutes ticked by as he lay on the bed, not moving. An hour went by, then two. He still hadn't moved, mind replaying the conversation with Pidge over and over again, then replaying things he and Keith had said and done over the years.

Slowly but surely he dragged himself out of bed. He went to the door, and opened it. Outside in the hall, he stood in the dark for a moment before taking the five miserable steps toward Pidge's door. He knocked.

She didn't answer.

He banged harder. "Pidge, wake up."

She came to the door a moment later, eyes groggy with sleep, hair a rat's nest. “What the fuck? You better be dying or something.”

“You were right.”

“Oh. Ha! …Wait what are you talking about?”

“I'm in love with Keith.”

Pidge gave him a look that reminded him of the face his mom used to make when she'd tell him he'd fall if he didn't stop running but he wouldn't listen to her, and he would fall.


	3. First Impressions

A warm summer night breeze ruffled his hair as he sat on the fountain’s edge. Washington Square Arch to his back, he looked out over the shadows of the park. His chest felt heavy and his throat tight as he sighed deeply, shoulders slouching further down. Talk about deja vu. It was the dead of night and they had the whole park to themselves. It was almost serene.

"So what're you going to do now?" Pidge asked him, voice uncharacteristically soft.

“I am trash,” he said, not answering her.

“Well if you insist.”

He chuckled, but it was humorless. “No I'm serious. I can't believe I had no idea. I've been in love with this one person my whole life and I never realized it. Subconsciously I just took him for granted. When I left home and moved here, I dated and basically lived my life. College ended, I got a job. And I never thought about a future or something with Keith because…I always just assumed he'd be there you know. Just…always there for me. I never stopped to consider that he could fall in love too, and that it may not be with me. That he’s not gonna put his life on pause waiting for me. That he has a life outside of being my best friend. That was really shitty of me.”

“Well at least now you know,” she tried to console him. “It's better late than never.”

“Yeah, now I know I love him like crazy, when he's about to get married. To someone else”.

"I'm sorry," she said in a genuinely nice voice reserved for those she truly loved.

“Pidge, I can't imagine my life without him. I can't…see him with anyone else.”

“I know.”

“Can you imagine if I had realized sooner?” Well who was he kidding. Keith might've rejected him anyway.

“I don't think you could have,” Pidge suggested. “It took the thought of him getting married to get you to realize. Sometimes we don't realize what we had until we've lost it.”

He raised his head out of his hands to look at her sidelong with a half-smile. “Damn, Pidge. You're getting philosophical on me.”

“That's kind of my thing. But seriously, what are you going to do now?”

“Well, tomorrow I can let my boss know that I'll be taking some time off. And then I'll book the flight for the day after.”

“Oh my god, you're gonna go? Lance. I'm…I know how hard it's going to be for you,” she said putting a hand on his shoulder. “But I'm so proud of you for taking this step to support him even though it'll be really painful for you.”

"Uh, lemme stop you right there. You're not giving me enough credit here. I just realized Keith is the love of my life. Do you honestly think I'm going to let him go that easily?" Did Pidge honestly not know him at all?

Her expression turned surprised, then mischievous. “What are you going to pull?”

“I'm not going so I can attend Keith's wedding. I'm going so I can get him to call it off.” And there was the tea.

“You were right,” she smacked her forehead. “You're absolute trash. And I can't believe we're friends.”

“Trust me. If I can realize twenty years later that I love him, I can also get him to fall in love with me.

“Isn't his wedding in like a month?”

Lance squared his shoulders. “Yup. But I _got_ this.” He emphasized just how much he had it with a double thumbs up. That was two thumbs more confidence than he was actually feeling, but damn if he was going to let that show.

“Well if anyone can do it,” Pidge reasoned, “I suppose it's you. You do know him better than anyone. You know what makes him tick.”

“That's what I'm talking about! Lancey Lance has this covered.”

“Just don’t call yourself that in front of him. Actually, you know what? I'd warn you not to scare him off, but if he's put up with you all these years, I doubt he'll run off now.”

It really was fairly simple, his plan. Phase One: break up Luke and Keith. Phase Two: get Keith to fall in love with me. Simple but brilliant. And so Lance went home, and slept like a baby, dreaming of Keith and his soft hair and pretty eyes.

* * *

He took off work, hopped on a plane, and landed in Miami.

Getting out of the taxi in front of his childhood home, Lance stalled by the front door, just taking in the sight. Memories came flooding back to him. Through the blurry pane of time, he could see himself and Keith chasing each other down the street, taking turns on a tricycle. He smiled to himself, before stepping away from the door. Threads of memory pulling at him, he made his way around the side of the house toward the backyard. There was a huge oak tree, sturdy as it was old. Wooden steps nailed to its trunk wound their way up. He craned his neck to look at the treehouse in its branches. There it was. Two summers worth of work, buckets of sweat and tears, the treehouse he and Keith had built together when they were twelve. Keith's dad had given them guidance and instructions, but they'd done the bulk of the work themselves. Keith was especially proud of it, wouldn't leave it except for using the bathroom. He would even have his meals there, dragging Lance up with him every day after school. It was starting to rot, but no one had the heart to suggest taking it down; Keith was too attached to it.

Heart full, he went up to the back door and knocked. He was let into the kitchen almost immediately by his bustling mother. “Lance, there you are! You took your time getting here. Can you believe how much there is to do? At least Luke hasn't arrived yet. I am not letting him see my house like this!”

“Mom, mom, ¡cálmate!" He laughed, feeling instantly welcomed. He wrapped her up in a hug, dwarfing her. “At least say hi to me properly. Who's Luke?” he asked, as an afterthought.

“You don't know who Luke is? Lance, seriously, Keith is your friend, and you don't know his fiancé's name?”

Oh. Right. Luke. What kind of name was that? Oh it was _on_.

“Right. Luke. No of course. Keith mentioned him yeah. He's...coming?”

“Yes! To Miami! Tomorrow! And the house is a mess, and Allura and Coran are over, and Hunk showed up to hang out with them. And there's still so much organizing to do. Hijo, this house is not fit to welcome my future son-in-law! So get in, and help me."

Lance grinned fondly at his mother's frazzled state. “Can I set down my bag at least?”

“Set down the bag and come help me!”

“On it.”

“I've cleared out your sister’s old room for you,” she told him as she tossed a salad. “Thalia won't be able to make it to the wedding so it's empty. I've given your room to Keith because it's bigger,” she said in a testy voice, as if daring him to protest.

The idea of Keith in his room did bother him, but not for the reason his mother thought. He ventured into the house, and found his distant uncle Coran, cousin Allura, and neighbor Hunk huddled together on the couch watching reruns of _Full House_. How fitting.

“Hey guys!”

“Lance!” Hunk shouted, jumping off the couch to wrap him up in a bone-crushing hug, actually lifting him off the ground a little.

“Can't breathe,” he wheezed, before Hunk finally let him go. Lance beamed despite his now surely flattened rib cage. Hunk was a pleasure to be around, a pure soul who was the single friendliest person he knew, himself included.

Coran slammed a welcoming hand on Lance's shoulder, nearly throwing him off balance. Jeez, being loved by these people was painful. Well at least there was Allura. His favorite cousin gave him a warm hug and a peck on the cheek, and the group went back to sit on the couch, pulling him with them.

“So tell us about New York,” Hunk prompted. “What's it like?”

“Ahh, not as wild as you'd think. Rent is insane, so I have a roommate. Work is dull, but that's what I get for majoring in economics.”

“Dating anyone?” Allura asked, eyes shrewd.

Lance almost missed a beat. _Play it cool_. “It's complicated.”

Allura rolled her eyes. “It always is with you.”

Coran nodded sympathetically. “That's what makes life interesting, my boy. Keep it up!”

 _You don't know the half of it_ , Lance thought to himself. He doubted Coran would ask him to keep it up if he knew that Lance planned to break up Keith's wedding.

Speaking of which, “So you guys are going to help with the wedding preparations?”

“Of course, Lance!” Allura assured.

“Count us in,” Hunk confirmed.

“It’s why we’re here,” Coran added.

Lance's parents chose that moment to walk into the room.

"Yes, nice to see you all lounging around while there’s a whole house left to clean up,” Lance’s mom accused, with one hand on her hip and a broom in the other.

“Now, Teresa,” Lance’s dad interrupted. “The boy just arrived. Let him greet everyone. How are you, Lance?” He reached out a hand and ruffled his son’s hair.

“Great, dad! And don’t worry, mom. I’m here to take care of all the chores.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” she huffed, though she couldn’t keep the fondness out of her voice. Instead, she directed a pointed look at Lance’s companions on the couch.

Lance glanced at the uncomfortable faces wilting under his mother’s stern gaze, and had an idea. More of an epiphany, really. It was never too soon to put a noble plan into action.

“No mom, we were actually talking about something important.”

She raised her eyebrows in a disbelieving expression. “Oh really? You hear this, Froylan?” she asked her husband.

“Yeah,” Lance pressed.

Allura threw him a curious look, and Hunk’s shifty eyes nearly gave them away; but Lance was ready to make his first move in the Grand Plan…. He really needed to come up with a better name for it asap.

“Listen.” He took his mom’s hand, getting off the couch and pushing her down onto it in his place. “Dad, you too.”

When his parents were comfortable, Lance sat cross-legged on the carpet facing them. “Here’s what I was asking. What do we really know about this Luke?”

“Oh come on, Lance.” Teresa made to get up, but Allura helpfully put an arm around her shoulders, keeping her seated.

“What’s his last name, for example?” Lance for one kept thinking ‘Skywalker’ every time the name was mentioned.

“This is what was so important?” Teresa was about to get up again. “Just ask Keith! I’m surprised you haven’t already.”

“I’m sure Keith is eager to tell you about his fiance,” Froylan added.

“Guys, _we’re_ Keith’s family now. We need to look out for him, make sure this guy is good enough for him.”

Froylan and Hunk shared a contemplative look, and Lance knew he’ set off on the right foot.

“We need to have his back,” he tacked on, really driving the point home. “That’s all I’m saying.”

“I’m a mom,” said Lance’s mom, “and I practically raised that boy with how much he was over at our house. I don’t need anyone—not even you hijo—to tell me to care for my children.”

Lance nodded, biting back a full-fledged grin. He’d awoken her maternal instinct. She was sure to scrutinize Skywalker’s every move when he arrived. So when Teresa left to deep clean the Roomba or whatever chore was next on her list, Lance let her go with a satisfied flutter in his gut.

Right then, Shiro came downstairs. He was dressed in a simple pullover, just tight enough to accentuate his V-shaped upper body and ample arms. His undercut was as impeccably trimmed as ever, white fringe accenting his distinguished face. Lance was struck with a fresh bout of gratitude that Shiro was straight. Because if that had been who Lance had to compete against, he might as well get on the next flight back to New York. In fact, if Luke was half as good-looking as Shiro, Lance would have no chance.

“Hey, Lance,” Shiro greeted him. “How’s it going? Have you seen Keith yet?”

Lance shook Shiro’s prosthetic hand. “Hey! Not yet. I was catching up with the others. I’ll go see him in a bit.”

“Oh. You should go up. I think he’s waiting for you.”

“Oh?” That was… weird. Why didn’t Keith just come down then? Why did Shiro’s eyes look so shifty?

“Yeah, go see him.” Shiro dropped down onto the couch between Hunk and Allura.

Lance caught Allura’s brown skin tinge a barely noticeable pink as she looked anywhere but at the man next to her. _Interesting._

Coran looked from Shiro to Lance, eyes widening. “Yeah, Lance, you should go upstairs,” he insisted.

“Oh-kayy, what’s going on?” he asked, attention snapping back from Allura’s ongoing crisis.

“Nothing at all!” Shiro and Allura insisted, at once. Though Lance didn't think they were talking about the same thing.

“I'll go up and see him, then.” Eyes narrowed at the innocent-looking faces staring at him, Lance started up the stairs. When he glanced back over his shoulder, he saw the whole squad craning their necks to watch his progress. _What the_ hell _was he walking into?_ Well it wasn't like he had a choice. He turned around just in time to see the ground rushing up at him. He fell hard.

“I knew it!” he shouted. Why was he even surprised at this point? He whipped back around to see what his foot had snagged on, and found a length of twine stretched across the third step. Ignoring the snickers behind him, Lance got to his feet and jumped over the booby trap determined to give a certain _someone_ a piece of his mind.

He made it to the top only to feel the ground sliding out from under him. He fell on his ass with a grunt, expression going completely flat. Oh _now_ Grumpy McMullet had it coming.

As if on cue, an adorable huffing laugh sounded somewhere above him. Lance looked up to see Keith, hand on his belly, doubled over in glee.

In Lance’s defense, he tried to be mad; he really did. But it had been more than a year since he’d seen Keith, and seeing him now…. Had the crinkles by Keith’s eyes—shut tight from laughter—always been this cute? Had the tips of his raven bangs always tickled the bridge of his nose like that? Had the tendons of his forearms always been this alluring?

When Keith was done enjoying himself at Lance’s expense, the asshole crossed his arms with a smirk. “What’re you doing on the floor?” he called down.

Lance felt an answering smirk growing on his own face and jumped to his feet. Keith took off down the hall throwing a triumphant look over his shoulder. It was an invitation to give chase, like in the old days. And Lance wasn’t one to back down from some classic cat and mouse.

They ended up in Keith’s room—Lance’s old room—dashing around the bed a couple of times before Lance managed to grab Keith’s waist and tackle him to the ground. Keith’s soft laughter was like a punch to Lance’s gut. He should’ve left well-enough alone, but Lance didn’t know how to quit when he was ahead. Having Keith under him like this, trapped between his arms, reminded Lance how _screwed_ he was. Jeez. He’d just gotten here and already couldn’t catch a break.

Keith’s laughter died down, and for a moment, violet eyes captured blue. Lance thought he saw the beginnings of a blush tint Keith’s cheeks but he figured it was because they’d just been running. Then Keith blinked and shoved at Lance’s shoulders but without any real force. “Get off me!” Keith demanded, brow furrowing. “You brute.”

Lance grinned. Now this was a dynamic he was used to. Emotional greetings now out of the way, he sat back, letting Keith sit up too but keeping his legs trapped under him.

“So?” Lance put on his best interrogator face.

“So what? And why are you making that stupid face?”

Lance cleared his throat. “ _So_ …. Tell me about Skywa—I mean Luke.”

Keith glared. It was a look Lance liked to call ‘The Death Stare:’ an attempt to mask defensiveness with anger. _Guess he didn’t like the Star Wars reference._ Which was weird because Keith was a giant Star Wars nerd. _He must’ve not liked me poking fun at his fiance_ , he thought offhand.

“ _Luke_ ,” Keith stressed the single syllable, “is coming tomorrow. You can see for yourself all you want.”

“Aw, come on! At least give me a hint.”

In response, Keith yanked his legs out from under Lance, making him fall over for the third time that day. With a final glance back and a fond shake of his head, Keith left the room.

Lance watched the now empty doorway for a moment before turning his attention to the room’s walls. Keith had been here for a few days already but hadn't changed any of the decorations. Lance's Deathly Hallows book cover poster was still where he'd left it on the wall opposite the bed. His old solar system map—saved from a National Geographic—was peeling at the corners but still in place above the headboard. Feeling like a kid again in this room, Lance hugged his knees contentedly.

His mind drifted back to the wide-eyed look Keith had given him moments before while pinned under him. Lance had been relieved when Keith’s demeanor had gone back to normal. But now he remembered that he was here to draw Keith _out_ of his comfort zone, not settle there himself. Head resting on his knuckles, he wondered vaguely if he’d just missed an opportune moment.


	4. The Plan

The sky was clear and cloudless when Lance awoke the next day. His sister’s room, where he was staying, was technically not that much smaller than the other rooms but she'd filled the space with so much personality that it felt cramped. The walls were covered with posters of anime characters, art prints, feminist slogans, banners from her college, and Ravenclaw house flags. If Lance had been a more claustrophobic person, he'd have felt stifled. But as it were, being in the midst of this particular chaos made Lance feel like he was being hugged by Thali, which was ridiculously comforting. 

He sat in bed, scrolling facebook, then instagram, then twitter, not taking in any of the posts he was seeing. His mind was on a certain Skywalker. He was arriving that afternoon; Keith was going to go pick him up from the airport and bring him over to meet everyone before taking him to his hotel. Lance hadn’t made any moves yet—hadn’t even thought about what moves  _ to _ make—and his competition was already here. Lance put down his phone as he gazed out the window of the bedroom, then picked it up again to text Pidge. She’d know how to boost his confidence in that reverse psychology way of hers. But then he put the phone down again. He was a grown man who could solve his own problems. Not facing his feelings was what had gotten him into this mess in the first place. 

Lance squared his shoulders. He’d pull Keith aside before he left for the airport and tell him...what? That Lance loved him, and he should break off his wedding to give him a chance? Yeah, like that’d go over well; he scoffed to himself. No, he needed Keith to realize that love on his own—to fall in love with  _ Lance _ on his own. For that, he’d just have to be better than this Skywalker. He exhaled a self-encouraging breath. How hard could that be?

* * *

 

Very hard. Turned out making himself look like the better option was  _ very _ hard. Skywalker had arrived and had already charmed the pants off half the household. Luke was a tall, strapping man with a soft face and kind eyes. His short thin hair sat in stylish layers atop his head. He’d come bearing gifts: books for Teresa (crime thrillers, her favorite genre), a baseball travel mug for Froylan, and a futuristic workout jacket for Shiro. Basically, thoughtful gifts that—along with his winning personality—had everyone practically eating out of his hand. Who got gifts for their boyfriend’s  _ friend’s _ family? It struck Lance as incredibly extra. Skywalker’s explanation was that he wanted to show how much he appreciated the family that took care of Keith after Keith’s dad had passed away.  _ Ugh, whatever. _ Oh yeah, and he got Lance a lamp that projected stars on the walls in the dark. Which was  _ okay _ , he guessed…. Apparently he remembered everything Keith had ever told him about his childhood friend and the family that became his own, including the fact that Lance used to have glow-in-the-dark stars on his ceiling as a kid. And the lamp was supposed to be a fond reminder of that. Oh who was he kidding? It was  _ awesome _ . And Skywalker was Mr. Perfect. Lance was disgusted. Worst of all, Keith had had this stupid smile on his face the entire time the family met his fiancé. Not just any smile either—one of his rare ‘I’m genuinely pleased’ shy smiles that used to be reserved for when he hung out with Lance. 

In short, Lance was screwed. 

He gave up on his noble intentions from that morning and texted Pidge, 

_ >He’s too good. _

Two minutes went by without a response as he watched Luke mingle, looking right at home in the backyard, as the family barbecued in the moonlight, and he sent off another text,

_ >Fuck it im coming home _

This time Pidge responded—with a phone call.  _ That’s weird. _ Pidge hated talking on the phone. He hit Answer. 

“Hello?”

_ “What the fuck, Lance? I go to my brother’s place for a few hours, and you’re crashing and burning!” _

Lance sighed. “It’s pointless. He’s...perfect. You should see the gifts he got everyone. You should see the gift he got  _ me _ ! I can’t even re-gift it, Pidge! Much less throw it away.”

_ “You’re not making any sense. What did Keith say?” _

“I didn’t talk to him!”

_ “WHAT?” _

Lance winced. “What would I even say? Besides, Keith would never pick me over  _ him _ . Heck,  _ I’d _ marry him. I’m gonna make up an excuse about work and get on a flight back home.” 

_ “You  _ are _ home. Anyway, what happened to ‘Lancey Lance has this covered’?” _

He chose to ignore the audible air quotes. “If you met this guy, you’d break your vow to never marry.” 

_ “Yeah, okay. Listen to me, Lance. Is Keith around?” _

Lance was bewildered. “You want to talk to him?”

_ “No, dumbass. Just answer the question. Is he around right now? Like, can you see him?” _

“Yeah….” Keith was hanging out with the others, Luke’s arm slung casually around his waist. Lance ignored the pang of jealousy in his chest in favor of watching how the moonlight made Keith’s pale skin glow. He looked radiant, even it those smiles weren’t for Lance. 

_ “Do you see it now?” _ Pidge’s voice in his ear made him jump out of his reverie.  _ “Do you see what you’re leaving behind?” _

Lance’s gaze didn’t waver from Keith as he smiled for the first time since Luke set foot in his house. “Fuck it. I’m staying.” 

_ “Oh yeah? What about What’s-His-Face? Mr. Perfect?” _

“Skywalker, who? Lancey Lance has this covered.”

_ “Then quit wasting my time and get to work.” _

“Hey, Pidge. Thanks.” 

He caught a fondly murmured  _ “fucking sap” _ before she hung up. 

Spirits very much lifted, he got up to join the others. The smell and sound of sizzling meat was getting enticing. As he walked up, he noticed Allura nursing a plate of untouched chicken breast, watching Shiro through her lashes. Shiro, a bottle of beer in hand, was chatting amiably with a girl who lived on their street. From the looks of it, he'd invited her to the barbecue as his date. 

Lance sneaked up behind Allura and sang in her ear, “You belong with meee!”

She jumped before hiding her fluster behind a stern look. “Don't sneak up on me,” she scolded. 

“You should tell him how you feel,” he advised, feeling after his talk with Pidge like love could conquer all. 

“I don't know what you're talking about.”  Allura’s valiant attempt to be evasive was foiled by her eyes darting toward Shiro again. 

“Yes you do, girl. You're pining for Shiro. You should ask him out.”

Allura looked like she was about to deny it, but then seemed to reconsider. “I don't even know if he's interested.” 

“Allura, you're a catch. Everyone who meets you falls in love with you. He'd have to be blind not to be interested.” 

That earned him a small smile. “Thanks, cuz. But I need a sign or something from him first. I'm not just going to go bare my heart and hope for the best.”

Looked like hesitation ran in the family when it came to confessions. “I'll be your wingman,” Lance stage-whispered, making a show of steering her toward Shiro. 

“You stay away from him!” She shook herself out of his grip laughing, and pulled him toward the food. “Grab a plate and eat before you get any more ideas.”

“You can change the world if you follow your heart,” he told her, for his own benefit as much as hers.

After a while, when mostly everyone was done eating but they were just sitting around talking, Keith pulled Lance aside, leading him away by the hand towards the treehouse. Reminding his heart that it was just  _ Keith _ , Lance followed. They didn’t climb up—no way it would hold them after all these years. They leaned against the trunk of the tree, and Lance let Keith speak first for once. 

“So?”

“Hmm?” Lance knew what Keith was asking. But he had no idea what to do. Be vague? Lie?  _ Confess? _ Okay, definitely not that last one. 

“Lance. Stop teasing. You know what I’m asking.”

Lance decided to go with a version of the truth. “He seems really nice, Keith.”

A moment passed in which Keith kept looking expectantly at Lance. Then he replied, surprise—and something else...was that... _ disappointment? _ —in his tone, “Seriously? That’s it? You’re not gonna make fun of him? No dumb nicknames?” 

Lance shrugged. His gut—or maybe it was cowardice—told him to play it cool. “I can see why you’re marrying him. I’ve only  _ just _ met him though,” he added teasingly. 

Keith smiled. But there was still  _ something _ behind it that Lance couldn’t place. Before he could wonder too much though, it was gone, replaced by a look of challenge. “So what happened to all your questions from yesterday?”

Lance ran a hand over the back of his head. “Uh, you weren’t exactly keen to answer them.”

Keith smirked. “Well now I want to tell you.” He crossed his arms and looked out toward Luke. “He was presenting a paper at the conference too. You know that part. His research was on molecular biology, so he was in a different hall than me. We met during the lunch break. He asked me to show him my poster, and showed a lot of interest in astrophysics. We talked a lot, then exchanged numbers, and one day he asked me out…. I liked him more and more the longer I knew him, and then one day, he surprised me with a visit to this cute little treehouse he'd rented. And he just proposed.” Keith paused, lost in the memory. “ It was a bit sudden you know, but it was really thoughtful and nice. Anyway, I wanted to thank you.”

“What for?” Lance asked, genuinely curious. He'd been listening with a grudging appreciation for the brilliance of a treehouse date idea. 

“I was about to bail on that conference. Do you remember? I was texting you from the airport.” He shook his bangs out of his eyes as the breeze tickled him, looking off fondly, as if he could see his past self in the distance. “If you hadn’t challenged me into getting on that flight, I never would’ve met Luke. So yeah, thanks.”

Lance was proud of the smile he kept plastered to his face as he berated himself.  _ The universe doesn’t need to screw me over. I do a spectacular job of it myself. _ He tuned back into the conversation to catch Keith saying,

“After we went official, he told me he actually had zero knowledge or interest in my research topic until he met me. He’d just pretended to during the conference because he hadn’t thought I’d give him my number otherwise.”

_ Smooth fucker _ , thought Lance, hating himself for mentally taking notes. “Starting a relationship with a lie, huh? I’m not so sure he’s that perfect anymore.” 

“Shut up!” But Keith was laughing. 

“Great comeback.” 

“You’re one to talk.”

“Hey, my comebacks are the best.”

“Yeah, sure, Lance. Whatever you say, Lance.”

Still bickering, they made their way back to the grill.

* * *

 

A few days later, after Luke had settled in, Lance suggested they all go hang out together. The pretense was that he and Luke would get to know each other; the ulterior motive was that Keith would get to compare Lance with Luke. Lance could only hope that this would go in his favor. And so here they were, at an ice cream shop, dressed in pastels. 

Keith and Luke were seated across from each other, leaning forward on their elbows to talk over the table. There was a third, empty chair next to them, even though the table wasn’t meant to seat more than two. That was of course Lance’s chair; and Lance couldn’t think of a more fitting symbol for his situation than that even if he tried. 

“Sir, may I have your order?”

The server—a teenager named Sam, according to the nametag—had to repeat the words before Lance stopped staring at the couple across the room and turned around toward the register. 

“Right. I’ll have two scoops of strawberry in a cup; and…” he trailed off, looking at the options of frozen goodness. “One scoop of mango, one mint, and a white chocolate in a boat, with sprinkles and…a  cracker on top!”

Sam punched it in. “Any toppings for the strawberry?”

Lance chuckled. “Nope!” Not for the Keith he knew. 

“Anything else?”

This kid’s ‘no fucks left to give’ tone of voice was admirable. It almost rivaled Keith’s. Was there anything else? “Oh yeah. A neapolitan boat also.”

Sam nodded, not commenting on the sudden disappearance of Lance’s enthusiasm, and doled out the ice cream. 

Lance paid and walked back with the tray to the table, ignoring the intimate look of the conversation proceeding without him. “One neapolitan for you,” he announced, setting it down in front of Luke. “Three random flavors for me, and a boring strawberry for you.” He plopped the last order in front of Keith.

“Hey! What’s so boring about strawberry,” Keith demanded, already digging in with the tiny pink spoon. 

He actually sounded offended, bless his heart. Keeping a fond grin off his face with sheer willpower, Lance shrugged. “In your entire boring life, have you ever had any flavor other than strawberry? Look at me! A bit of this, a bit of that. Bold and adventurous! Even Luke is changing it up.”

Keith shook his head, already halfway through his two scoops. “Mint ice cream is horrible. Mint only belongs in cough drops. And toothpaste. Besides, if I like this why should I try other stuff?”

It was a rhetorical question, but it gave Lance an idea. “Variety, my man,” he stuck his own cracker into Keith’s cup, “is the spice of life. What do  _ you  _ think, Luke?” 

“I agree,” Luke agreed, smiling amicably. 

Of course he did. Keeping his voice as arch and cheery as possible, Lance ventured, “I don’t know man. Do you really know variety? I’m willing to bet Keith is the first serious relationship you’ve had.”

“What do I win?”

“What?”

Luke set down his spoon. Archness rivaling Lance’s, he explained. “You lost the bet. What do I win?”

“What?” Keith asked. 

_ Bingo. _

“What?” Luke this time.

Lance was living. “Oh, you’ve been serious about other people before Keith?” He phrased it innocently, matter-of-factly. “I don’t mean to make a big deal of it! I’m sure Keith knows all about your exes.” He glanced over to confirm, already guessing what the answer might be. 

“No. No, I don’t.” 

“Oh?”  _ Bingo! _ Lance watched Luke squirm under Keith’s death stare. 

“I mean,” began Luke valiantly, “our pasts never really came up as a topic of conversation.”

The corners of Lance’s mouth turned up in sync with Keith’s eyebrow. 

“So you just kept this from me?” Keith asked evenly. 

Confusion started to line Skywalker’s brow. “I don’t get what the big deal is.”

And  _ that _ precisely was the problem—for Luke of course; it was great for Lance. Luke couldn’t see what the big deal was, but Lance could. Keith was self-conscious about his lack of experience. There’s no way Luke could know that so soon; reading Keith was a skill a lifetime in the making. Lance squashed the part of him that felt guilty for using Keith’s insecurities to sow discord in his engagement.  _ All is fair in love and war. _

Unaware of the magnitude of his own setback, Luke kept talking. “I'm sure you have a past too, Keith, and I wouldn't feel threatened by it.” 

Lance let his glee bubble out as laughter. “Keith’s past? That would be me.” He let the ambiguity linger for a moment for his own benefit before clarifying. “Strawberry ice cream, remember? Being my friend is all Keith’s boring past consists of.” 

“Shut up, Lance. Luke, you should’ve told me.”

“There was nothing to tell,” Luke tried. “I’m serious about marrying you; isn’t that what matters?”

Even arguing, this guy was so...good-tempered. Lance thanked the heavens that Keith was a hothead; otherwise, it would’ve been really difficult to provoke a fight. 

“Basing a relationship on trust matters too. And if you trusted me, you would’ve told me.” 

“It isn’t as big as you’re making it out to be!”

“Oh, so now  _ I’m _ the unreasonable one?” 

Lane ate as he watched the proceedings like one would a tennis match, head turning back and forth to follow the ball as it switched courts. 

“I’m confused about what’s bothering you,” Luke admitted. “Whatever you want to know, just ask! I’m not going to hide anything.”

“You don’t get it, do you?” Keith punctuated the question by standing up. “This isn’t a game of twenty questions. It’s about you not being open with me about parts of your life. We’re not supposed to have secrets, Luke.”

Lance was lost for a moment in the light flush starting to dust Keith’s pale cheeks as his hackles rose. 

“Lance?”

“Yes, Keith?”

“Lance!”

“Right, yes. Time to go. Guess we’re not finishing the ice cream then.” He got to his feet. “Very uncool, man,” he added—perhaps unnecessarily—to Luke, before following Keith out to the parking lot to drive him home. Lance threw one last look over his shoulder to see Skywalker gazing miserably at the untouched strawberry in his neapolitan. 


	5. Worth It

Jogging on the bridges that led out to the small islands was one of the pleasures of Miami that Lance missed most acutely when in New York. Now back in his hometown, he was taking full advantage of the opportunity, heading for one of the older bridges that hadn't been renovated since his childhood. He was going for full nostalgia. His mom had suggested he take Luke with him, and he hadn't been able to refuse. But Lance was doing his best to avoid Skywalker by keeping a few paces ahead. He soon realized though that he'd left Luke too far behind, and he slowed to a walk before stopping entirely and leaning against the railing to look out over the water. This was something New York didn't have. Sure, you could jog on the bridges there, but the only sights were the cars whizzing by one lane over and the skyscrapers rising around you. Even the water was murky when you looked down. But this, this was serene. Maybe it was this serenity coupled with the pleasant breeze on his face that allowed Lance's mind to drift.

_He imagined Luke dangling off the bridge, hanging on to Lance’s hand for dear life. ‘I’m sorry Luke,’ said fantasy Lance. ‘It’s not your fault. You’re wonderful! But I love Keith, and I can do anything for a chance to be with him. Goodbye, Luke.’ Monologue over, fantasy Lance let go. Fantasy Luke fell with an echoing yell that cut off with a satisfyingly loud splash. Fantasy Lance dusted off his hands somberly. ‘A shame. He really was a good guy.’_

Lost in these thoughts, real-life Lance didn’t notice that the part of the railing he had his weight on was coming loose. He was leaning very far out, his feet pushed as far off the edge of the bridge as they would go, holding himself up with bent arms, elbows resting on the railing. A bolt fell out, and the railing dipped. Lance's elbow gave out, and with a yelp, he slipped forward. His heart skipped a beat a split second before he realized he was going to fall. His hands came up wildly, body seeking something, _anything_ to hold on to. But he was facing the wrong way to grab the bar of the railing, and he was flailing, trying to regain his balance.

Somehow, miraculously, someone caught his hand. He held on for dear life, one foot planted on the bridge but barely, and the rest of his body hanging off. He looked back to see who had saved him, and found the smiling face of Luke.

“Careful there, man,” Luke suggested, as if Lance hadn’t almost just plummeted to a gruesome death. Luke hoisted him back onto the path and clapped him on the shoulder. “We should report that railing; it's dangerous.”

“Thanks, dude. I, like, owe you my life or something.”

Luke chuckled. “Not really. The fall here isn’t far enough to kill you.”

But of course Luke just _knew_ that, while this was Lance’s home and he had no idea which parts had lethal drops.

“I looked it up before we came out here just to be safe,” Luke continued. “Besides, I’m sure you would’ve done the same for me.”

Outwardly, Lance smiled and nodded. Inwardly, he was choking on his own guilty conscience. In an act of self-preservation, Lance called up the image of a certain black-haired, violet-eyed man. Keith was worth selling his soul for; this villainy was nothing.

Having not learned the lesson the universe had just tried to teach him, _at all_ , Lance started to put a spontaneous new plan into action. He fell into step beside Luke.

“By the way, since you're like my hero now, I'm obliged to tell you what I really think.”

Luke watched him sideways with interest as the two jogged together.

“Yesterday, that argument was totally Keith’s fault. I know he's my friend, but when he's wrong, he's wrong.”

“You really think so? I was going to call to apologize once I got back to the hotel.”

“ _What?_ No, no, no! Don't do that. Wait for _him_ to call _you_.”

Lance had to give Skywalker credit for looking at least a little bit skeptical.

“Trust me,” Lance answered. “I know him. He’ll mope for a while but then he’ll come right back to you wanting to make up.”

Luke was pensive but looked more or less convinced.

Lance told himself it was Skywalker’s own fault for being so trusting and thinking the best of everyone. After all, this cruel world was no place for the gullible.

* * *

Once home, Lance sought out Keith and found him hanging out in his room with Shiro and Allura, watching a _Star Wars_ cartoon show on his laptop. _Time to put Step 2 of Phase One of the plan into action._

“Hey, it's _Star Wars_! Mind if I join you?” Lance plopped down on the carpet against the bed where the other three were seated, and racked his brain for the name of the Jedi currently fighting on the laptop screen.

“Sure,” Shiro answered at the same time as Keith said,

“What do you want, Lance?”

“Want?” Lance pulled his best ‘taken aback’ pose. “Why do you always doubt my motives? I don't have to _want_ anything to watch something with you!”

Keith paused the show just as the Jedi Lance had seen before was impaled by a light saber and dropped dead. Well, guess his name didn't matter anymore.  Keith turned toward Lance, eyebrow raised. “You don't even like _Star Wars_.”

Damn it; this was the problem with trying to lie to someone who knew you so well. “Yes I do,” Lance tried anyway.

“Okay, name one thing you like about it.”

Keith was being particularly relentless. The fight with Luke must've really messed up his mood. Lance scrambled to think of everything he knew about _Star Wars_. It didn't take very long. “Darth Vader,” he exclaimed. “I love Darth Vader.”

Keith’s expression opened a little, though still cautious; and Lance figured he'd just played that very well indeed. But then Keith responded,

“Why? Tell me your reasons.”

Having exhausted all other options, Lance decided to go with honesty—or at least an honest answer to this particular question. “He has that baller cape going for him.”

“WHAT?”

Okay, so Lance may have said that on purpose to see Keith get worked up. Honestly, after all these years Keith should see right through it; but he fell for this sort of thing all the time. Though to be fair, Lance had only recently realized that he did this because worked-up-Keith was somehow impossibly, even cuter than regular Keith. Armed with this hindsight, all those years of teasing finally made sense. _However_ , in this instance, Lance may have overstepped a little. _Star Wars_ was sacred territory, and Keith was still screaming sacrilege.

“You don't deserve Anakin Skywalker, father of Luke Skywalker and Leia Organa, husband of Padme Amidala!”

So...it looked like Keith was right on track to falling in love with Lance. The plan was going great!

“So uh...should we leave you two alone to fight this out or…” asked Allura, while Shiro glanced at the now blackened laptop screen almost longingly.

“Nah, we’re done,” Keith answered nonchalantly, as if he hadn't just been yelling.

“Yeah, stay!” Lance encouraged. Shiro was a really cool guy and Lance didn't usually _like_ Keith’s friends. And Allura, well she was hands down the coolest member of the family.

Shiro offered Lance an apple slice off his plate, and Lance graciously accepted. _See_? A cool guy.

“So what'd you and Luke talk about today?” Lance came back to the task at hand.

Keith scowled but didn't answer; Lance counted a point for himself.

“They're not talking,” Allura provided helpfully.

“Aw man, that's rough,” Lance sympathized convincingly. “Maybe you're being too hard on him. How many times has he called to apologize?”

Shiro and Allura exchanged a worried look. Since when was _that_ a thing?

“He hasn't called,” Keith muttered.

“Oh, was it by text then?”

“He hasn't apologized, okay,” Keith grumbled, hackles rising.

“ _Ohhh,_ gotcha. That's rough.”

“Yeah you said that already.”

Lance slung an arm around Keith’s shoulder. “You know, I never would've pegged Luke to be one of _those_ guys.”

Keith turned his face toward Lance. “Which guys?”

Keith's face was so close, Lance had to make an effort to keep ahold of the thread of conversation. “You know,” he explained, “the kind who can never be the ones to apologize first.” The line was cast; now he just had to reel it in. He looked away, because how was he supposed to stare into those piercing eyes and lie through his teeth? He looked at Allura instead, which may have been a mistake, because she was bestowing a knowing look on the arm currently wrapped around Keith.

Lance redirected his gaze again, this time toward his Deathly Hallows poster on the wall. Keith hadn't taken it down when he moved into the room. Lance continued. “Looks like you're going to have to be the compromising one in this relationship. You should call him.”

“The fuck I should!” Keith pulled Lance's arm off him with more force than strictly necessary. “I'm not taking relationship advice from you! Screw you both! I'm not talking to him until _he_ apologizes to _me_ . And _not_ by text.”

Lance rubbed his shoulder. _Worth it._

Outside Keith's room, Allura cornered Lance. “What are you playing at?” she asked, face shrewd as she regarded him.

Lance gulped and shrugged. “I don't know what you're talking about,” he parroted her line back to her and got out of there, not giving her a chance to ask any more questions.

* * *

Tacky streamers —courtesy of Lance—dangled in tasteful patterns—courtesy of Coran and Teresa—throughout the party hall. Teresa had insisted on throwing a belated engagement party, and she had gone all out. Keith and Luke were at a table toward the front of the room, the picture of a happy couple…almost. Their chairs were a couple of inches further from each other than would be expected, and their smiles as they accepted people’s congratulations were not entirely genuine. In other words, there was trouble in Paradise.

On another table, Lucifer, otherwise known as Lance, basked in the disorder he had incited. He chose to focus on that instead of the fact that this was an _engagement party_ , which was something that was usually followed by a wedding.

“ _You belong with meee_ ,” Allura crooned in his ear, startling him. “You were trying to give me advice when you're in a tighter bind than I am?”

Yeah, Allura totally knew. There was no point in hiding it from her. Her tone also held a bit of a challenge, and Lance was predictable. “Oh I'm following my own advice,” he insisted. “You can change the world if you follow your heart.”

She sat down in the seat next to him and put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Optimism is good cuz, but I don’t—

“No I'm serious! This isn't over.”

Allura leaned in closer. “Alright, I'll bite. What're you talking about?”

Lance grinned. Having a partner in crime—if only to show off in front of—was a definite confidence boost. “All I'm saying is, this is only an engagement party. Who knows what might happen between now and the wedding?”

“Oh no.” She pulled away. “What nonsense are you about to pull?”

“Just wait and watch.” He winked before getting up to go put Step 3 of Phase One into action. Lance saw Shiro by the drinks table and made a beeline for him.

“Hey Lance!” Shiro greeted him openly.

Lance gave him a hundred-watt smile in return. “How are you? Enjoying the party?”

“Yeah! And even more so, I'm just so happy for Keith.”

Lance glanced over to find Keith and Skywalker arguing a bit more openly now. “Same!” He cleared his throat. “So I've been thinking about Luke and how he's getting married in a city so far from his home. I know he wants to have the wedding here in Miami so Keith will be comfortable.”

“Yeah, that is really nice of him,” Shiro agreed. “Keith really found a great guy.”

Lance swallowed down the sour taste in his mouth and nodded vigorously. “Exactly! So I wanted to do something nice for him. I'm going to plan a bachelor party, and you're the first to be invited!”

“Sounds awesome, Lance! Count me in.”

“I’d plan one for Keith too, but—”

“He thinks bachelor parties are dumb; yeah I know.” Shiro chuckled. “Of course they’re dumb. Just text me the time and place and I'll be there. Do you have my number?”

As Shiro was Keith’s friend and hadn’t known Lance very closely before now, Lance did not have his number. Numbers exchanged, Lance moved on to his next victim. “Hunk! Man, I need you to keep a secret!”

“You know I'm not the best with those, man.”

Oh, Lance _knew_.

“But obviously I want to know,” said Hunk hurriedly.

Lance invited him, then scanned the room until he caught sight of the next party guest. “Hey Coran!”

“What’s going on, my boy?” Coran boomed.

Lance started to answer while he was still a few arm-lengths away. “What do you think about the idea of a bachelor party?”

Coran mustache twitched as he grinned. “I’ve been the life of many a bachelor party in my day.”

Lance didn’t doubt it for a second. “Well I’m here to tell you those days are far from over.”

Was he being louder than usual making his way around inviting various guys? _Yes_. But only because ever since the party had started, he'd had his eye on the group of three kids running around raising a ruckus. Those same kids were now chanting “Party! Party!” as they ran, and a couple of them were asking their parents what a bachelor party was because they'd heard “Luke was going to have one.” All in all, the talk was enough to reach Keith who threw a particularly scathing side eye at Luke.

“What now?” asked Luke, starting to look _actually_ pissed for the first time since Lance had met him.

Hook, line, and sinker.

Keith rolled his eyes and walked off toward the bathroom.

Allura came up behind Lance and bumped his shoulder with her own. “I'm actually kind of impressed. Mildly horrified, but impressed.”

Horrifying but impressive was the kind of praise Lance liked to hear. “What you just saw was only the culmination of Step 2 of Phase One. And I’ve already put Step 3 into action too. Wait till you see all the other shit that's gonna go down.”

“Step Three? Phase what? _Lance?_ ”

Lance only winked in response.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The adorable art in this chapter was commissioned from coralreefskim! Look at their perfect expressions!! Reblog directly from the artist [here](https://coralreefskim.tumblr.com/post/169502772418/commission-for-sir-klancelot-for-their-fic-follow)


	6. Would You Mind

Lance and the other guys—minus Keith of course—were gathered at a rented beach house, dressed snazzily, waiting for the entertainment. Lance had chosen a shiny blue button-down, open at the collar with the sleeves rolled up, topped with a sleek black blazer with shining accents. Had to look good for Skywalker’s downfall. They talked while they waited, casually sipping drinks as if they weren’t all here to watch some good old-fashioned stripping. For the party’s theme, Lance had decided to play up the fact that Luke, a bi man, was making a commitment to never be with a woman again. This was his last chance to see a boob for the rest of his life and all that.

_ This is it. _ The final step of Phase One. If all went well, Keith and Luke would be broken up before morning. Doing his best not to betray this train of thought on his face, Lance turned his attention to the party. Hunk was biting into a cupcake that looked exactly like a naked boob. Lance was altogether glad he’d picked those over the vagina cupcake option. 

“The frosting could’ve used a bit more beating,” Hunk critiqued. “Cake frosting is an art, and it’s not easy.”

Coran helped himself to one and chewed thoughtfully. “I can’t really tell, but I trust you. But hey, at least the frosting and mini marshmallow for the nipple are the right color.” 

“There’s no  _ right _ color, Coran,” Shiro pointed out, joining them at the table.

“I mean there are definitely wrong colors though,” Luke chimed in, already one beer in. 

“Like blue,” Lance suggested. Might as well join the banter while he waited for Nyma. “Or green.”

“Ew, Lance!” Hunk chastised, while Shiro shook his head muttering,

“I can’t believe we’re talking about this.” 

Lance pulled out a straw from the vagina-shaped straw holder (because why not?), and stirred his drink a little. “You’re right, Shiro,” he said. “Let’s not talk. Let’s drink!” He set down his glass to hop behind the bar and pulled out a bottle of vodka. 

“Shots?” Hunk suggested. 

Lance grinned. “Good idea.” He poured them out. “I’m making a special drink for the groom,” he said, grabbing orange juice and cranberry juice.  _ Where are those peach schnapps?  _  “But in the meantime, start shots!” 

Coran downed his shot and pointed to the poster on the wall. “Ah, Pin the Boob on the Lady! A classic. I don’t mean to boast, but I’m known to be quite the expert in that fine game.” 

“Nuh uh uh,” Lance shook his finger. “Not yet. That game’s no fun unless you’re  _ wasted _ .” With that, he gave the cocktail shaker one final shake, and poured its contents into the five glasses he had waiting on the counter. “Sex on the beach!” he announced, taking one for himself. 

Luke picked up his glass and sipped. Seeming to like what he tasted, he earnestly drank more. Helping himself to a refill of vodka and soda when the cocktail was finished, he downed that too. 

Still nursing his first drink, Lance watched Luke’s inclination with interest.  _ How to inquire without being too obvious? _

Turned out he didn't have to. Shiro walked up beside Luke and offered him a warm smile. “Slow down there, big man. The night is still young.”

Luke shrugged and did the exact opposite of slowing down, throwing back another glass of vodka and soda. “Lance said to get wasted didn’t he? I want to play that stupid game.” 

“Luke?”

Luke sighed. “Sorry, Shiro. I just…I’m having a bad day.”

“Bad day to be having a bad day. It’s your bachelor party.”

“I know.”

“Keith?” Shiro asked delicately. 

In the background, Lance’s ears perked up.

Luke nodded. “We’ve been fighting. It got worse when he heard about the bachelor party.”

Shiro nodded sympathetically. 

Something about Luke’s tone unsettled Lance. Was that  _ guilt _ Lance was feeling? He shoved it away. 

“It’s not like I asked for this party,” Luke grumbled. “But it’s just some harmless fun. What am I supposed to do? Call it off?” He scoffed. “I’m here, and I’m going to have a good time.”

As if on cue, Lance felt his phone vibrate in his pocket.  _ Perfect.  _ He put down his drink and clapped his hands together. “Alright guys. Get ready to have your minds blown.” He joyfully noted the gleam in Luke’s eyes right before the lights went out.  _ Nyma’s here. _

Nyma was an old…acquaintance…of Lance’s. Okay, she was an ex, and things had ended badly…for Lance. But for the party he needed a performer whom he could trust to follow his instructions to the T. Nyma was an ace dancer, and once Lance got over himself and gave her a call, she was down to help him with his plan. Of course she was; it was a brilliant plan. 

Little red lights came on around the room, and Nyma’s silhouette started moving seductively in front of her audience. Lance sighed to himself;  _ the things I do for Keith.  _

Nyma stepped out of the shadows and into the light. Lance was glad he’d already put down his glass, because otherwise he’d surely have dropped it. She’d outdone herself, wrapped in a black lace robe tied with a satin ribbon at her waist, her lovely brown skin was showing through the delicate floral pattern in the lace. Her silky hair was tied back in a ponytail and her long stockinged legs ended in alluring heeled boots. 

Luke didn't stand a chance. 

The opening beats of “Would You Mind” played from discreetly placed surround-sound speakers, and Lance did his best to keep premature triumph off his face.  _ Don't count your chickens before they hatch,  _ he reminded himself. Even if said chickens were moments away from hatching. 

_ Baby would you mind touching me _

Nyma moved with the music like waves were undulating through her body. She caressed the front of her robe, delicate fingers turning back every time they neared the knot, teasing. Now that she was in better light, Lance could see that her stockings ended at her mid thigh, her garters just visible through the lace robe. Her ass was practically bare underneath. 

_ Baby would you mind undressing me _

She turned, twirled smoothly, head falling back and eyes half-lidded as she felt the words. Her back to the audience, she finally let the satin belt fall away, robe now hanging loose. 

_ Bathe you, play with you, rub you, caress you _

Confidently, she stepped to the music. Everyone stared in appreciation as she lost the robe to reveal a zippered black corset over a lace thong. Hips popping along to Janet Jackson’s svelte vocals, Nyma unzipped the corset ever-so-slowly from the bottom up. Her expression was smug as she took in her audience’s reactions. 

_ Love you, hold you make love to you _

When the zipper was just under her chest, she stopped unzipping. Lance caught Luke eyeing her navel, which was peeking out invitingly. 

An interlude began in the song, timed perfectly with the next part of the act. Nyma disappeared behind a curtain. 

Luke took the opportunity to pour himself more vodka, not even bothering with club soda anymore, and drank it all down. 

Nyma re-emerged moments later. The corset was gone, an oversized white button-down in its place. She'd opened her ponytail and her hair was now loose around her shoulders. She strutted over to Luke, took his hand, and led him to the nearby loveseat. 

_ Kiss you, suck you, taste you, ride you _

A devious smile on her face, she pushed him down onto the chair. She knelt to push his legs apart, only to stand up again and rest her foot on the edge of the chair. A few jaws dropped around the room. Ever so slowly, she inched the zipper of her boot down. Luke's gaze followed the zipper’s progress before flicking back up to her face. She repeated the action on her other boot, then toed them off. 

She put one knee on the seat between his legs and the other on the armrest, hands on his shoulders. She rocked her hips in circles on either side of him, eyes gazing deep into his. 

_ Baby would you mind coming inside of me _

“No touching!” Lance called out teasingly, because he knew what Nyma’s response would be. 

“He's the groom,” she said, not taking her eyes off Luke. She took his hand and brought it to her thigh, right on the garter’s hook. “He can touch all he wants. Only for tonight.” That last part she said directly in Luke’s ear. Running a hand along her own collar, she kissed his earlobe before leaning back. 

Skywalker seemed to get the message. Looking up at her with something like awe, he unhooked the garter and started sliding the stocking down her leg. 

With a smirk, she slipped open the top button of her shirt. 

_ Tell how much I've missed you _

She started to grind against him agonizingly slowly, stopping every so often to pop another button. 

Meanwhile, Luke had made decent progress on her right stocking despite being fairly drunk at this point. Balancing her weight on her left knee, she brought her right foot into his lap for him to slip off the nylon entirely. Seemingly forgetting the audience he had, he leaned forward and placed a delicate kiss to her knee before pulling off the stocking. He was rewarded by a grind—satisfying based on his moan—and another open button. 

“Want to give me a hand?” she asked in that sweet voice of hers. 

Luke grabbed her shirt and pulled with both hands, tearing the few remaining buttons and relieving her of the offending garment. 

And just like that, he had a face full of boobs. Nyma was wearing a no coverage bra—a band under her breasts with delicate straps holding it in place—that left her boobs entirely exposed. 

_ Touch you, tease you, lick you, please you _

Nyma moved one of Luke’s hands to the garter still on her other leg, and his other hand to her waist. Once there, the hand reflexively set to exploring, moving along the smooth expanse of her skin. She resumed her grinding and circular gyrating motions, occasionally bumping him in the face with her breasts. Her loose hair formed a curtain around their faces—this show was for him alone.

_ Feel you deep inside me ooh _

Having given up on taking off the other stocking while she was moving so much, Luke's hands roamed until they found her ass, squeezing a generous handful of it. His eyes watched her boobs like a pendulum, strangely blank given the situation. 

_ Feel you, make you come too _

And it was that moment when the door opened and Keith stepped inside, worry on his face morphing into surprise then hurt then anger in quick succession. 

Lance couldn't have planned it better if he'd tried. 

* * *

And tried he had. When he’d noticed Luke going back for vodka and soda refills, skimping on the soda more and more each time, it had been the perfect moment to strike. He'd gone up to Shiro and expressed his concern that Luke was drinking too much. 

Shiro had nodded, expressed his agreement, then told Lance not to worry. 

At the time, Lance had still been convinced he needed Shiro for his plan to work; he’d figured Shiro would inform Keith that things were going downhill. Keith would trust Shiro’s judgment. So Lance had pressed on. “He's getting way too into this striptease. I know I organized this party, but I'm worried for Keith.” 

Shiro had merely assured Lance that Luke was blowing off some steam. That moreover, Keith would only be hurt if he found out. And that telling Keith now wouldn’t solve the underlying problem—they'd have to talk things out later. 

Logical points all; but Lance had needed Keith to  _ see  _ his fiancé like this. 

So in an act of desperation, he'd snagged Luke’s phone from where it sat unassumingly in his coat pocket abandoned on the couch. Drawing on his own multitude of experiences drunk texting various exes, he’d shot off a message to Keith from Luke's phone. 

**Im so drunk cn yuo come getme**

He’d also sent a description of the beach house that was vague enough to be convincingly drunken but specific enough for Keith to be able to google the address. Deed done, he’d sneakily put the phone back, knowing Keith wouldn't say no. 

* * *

So now when Luke stood up, looking extremely sheepish and extremely small next to an almost naked burlesque dancer, withering under Keith's stony gaze, Lance finally  _ finally  _ counted his chickens. 

The song ended, and everyone stood in the most uncomfortable silence imaginable. Luke didn't even seem to have it in him to try and explain. Keith said nothing and a moment later, turned around and walked out the way he had come. 

Nyma winked at Lance before slipping away. 

* * *

_ “Would you mind  _ mmhmm  _ makin’ me feel sexy…”  _ Lance hummed, slow dancing by himself in the empty beach house. Everyone had scattered after Keith had unwittingly spoiled the party, but Lance hung back, enjoying the moment. 

“Having a moment?”

The sudden voice behind him startled Lance, and his humming stuttered to a stop. He turned around to find Luke standing stoically, hands in the pockets of his slacks, eyes bloodshot but still alert. 

“Hey, you doin’ alright there, man?” Lance tried. “It was a hell of a night.”

“It really was, wasn’t it.”

Waves of panic were just starting to lap at Lance’s toes. He had admittedly not thought his actions through earlier, and they  _ may _ have just come back to bite him in the ass. 

“You know, Lance, I’ve been thinking.”

“Oh?”  _ Play it cool, play it cool. _

“Yeah. Ever since I got to Miami, Keith and I have been getting into fights. We never fought like this before. Don’t you think that’s a little...weird?” 

_ Play it cool. _ “I mean, couples fight. Maybe you two just hadn’t known each other long enough bef—”

“And everytime we fight,” Luke continued as if Lance hadn’t spoken, “it somehow has something to do with you.” Luke took a step closer to Lance. 

_ Hold. It. Together! _ “I don’t know what you’re insinuating but—”

“So I put two and two together.”

This calmly aggressive side of Luke was unsettling. Lance needed a way of talking himself out of this  _ as ASAP as possible _ . But something told him it was futile to try. 

“You’re doing it on purpose.” There it was. “You’re trying to break me and Keith up.”

“Wha—why would I do that?” Lance was well into panic mode at this point.

And Luke was well into Lance’s space at this point. “That’s what was bothering me,” he said, sounding frustrated with himself. “Why would someone want to sabotage their best friend’s wedding? There’s only one explanation.”

Uh oh. 

“You’re in love with him.”

Lance went for a cross between a laugh and a scoff that was meant to convey ‘that’s ridiculous!’ He wasn’t sure how successful it was, but he had to say something. “You were drinking a lot earlier Luke. You’re not making much sense.”

“Oh I’ve got my wits about me! Must be the adrenaline from when you called Keith here.” 

Lance stuttered, and Luke watched him flail before continuing,

“Did you think I wouldn't see the text on my own phone? Or did you think I was blackout drunk and would assume I had sent it?” 

Lance really should’ve deleted that text after sending it. 

“Did you not think Keith and I would talk about this later?”

Lance avoided Luke's eyes. 

“You love Keith. Just admit it, man!” 

“Fine! I love Keith. And I may not have realized it until he told me he was engaged to you,” he took a deep breath. Well, now that it was all out in the open, there was only one thing to do. He crossed his arms and closed the remaining distance between them. “But now that you know everything, I'm sure you see how pointless it is for you to stick around. It's always been me and Keith, Keith and me. You're coming between us.”

Luke smiled for the first time since the conversation started. But it was humorless—more of a threat than a smile. He wasn't saying anything though, so Lance took comfort in the sound of his own voice and kept going,

“So you see, it's clear now. You should leave….” He was making this up as he went along. “If you're worried about what to tell Keith, I can take care of that. Just pack up and leave, Luke.” Part of him wondered if he was being unfair, but the frustration of the past week was pouring out of him now in his own passive-aggressive way. He still wasn't meeting Luke's gaze despite how close they were standing. He didn't want to face whatever reality he would find in Luke's eyes. 

“Why would I leave?” Luke finally responded. “Keith and I are  _ engaged.  _ Why would I leave the man I love when he's agreed to marry me? From where I'm standing,  _ you're  _ the one who's interfering.” 

Luke's voice was equal parts incredulity and exasperation, and it rubbed Lance the wrong way. This guy came out of nowhere to take Keith away from him, and he was on some high horse looking down on Lance. “He agreed to marry you because _I_ wasn't around,” he shot. “Everything about your relationship is a consolation prize, a substitute for me. Miami is _my_ home; Keith going to LA was because _I_ convinced him; heck, even the treehouse where you proposed is a connection to me. But _I'm_ here for Keith now, in the flesh. So there is literally no need for you anymore.”

“You're being a giant dick,” Luke observed. “I should be more surprised, but I'm not.”

“Call it what you want, but Keith and I belong together.”

“Why don't we let Keith be the judge of that,” Luke shot back. “You're so sure you two are made for each other or whatever? Fine, then try him. I'm confident enough in our relationship to bet he'd never give me up.” 

“I thought you meant like asking him directly, but a bet, huh?” Lance allowed himself a confident smirk. “You'll lose.” 

“I'll think I'll take my chances. Time is on my side after all. I'm getting married in two weeks. To Keith,” he added for emphasis. 

“You met Keith, what, sometime last year? I've been his other half for almost twenty years.  _ You're  _ the one who's short on time.”

Luke nodded and held out his hand. “We'll see.”

“We'll see,” Lance agreed, shaking the proffered hand. 


	7. Unexpected Consequences

"I honestly would not have expected this from Luke." The family was gathered in the living room, and Teresa was sharing her take on the events of the previous night.

"It wasn't entirely his fault," Hunk defended. "The atmosphere there was just something else. I'm demi and even I felt the electricity in the room."

"That doesn't excuse his behavior," Allura insisted. "He is engaged to Keith! Listen, I understand lap dances are common at bachelor parties, and I'm not against having fun. But getting so intimate with the dancer?"

Lance was discreetly watching the drama unfold from the top of the stairs. After last night's confrontation with Luke, he needed a confidence boost. The anti-Luke sentiment in the room right then was doing very well for that, even if it did bring a pang of guilt too.

The discussion on how much Luke was to blame continued until Keith cut in from his spot on the couch where he was buried in work on his laptop. "Can you guys not talk about this?"

Silence fell in the room. There was more than a little irritation in his tone, and Lance's heart went out to him. He chose not to dwell on the hypocrisy of that sentiment.

"Keith?"

Lance, and five other pairs of eyes, turned at the voice. Luke stood in the doorway wearing a beseeching look on his face. “Can I talk to you, Keith?” he said.

_What more can there be to say_ , Lance mouthed, as if predicting the next dialogue in a bad movie.

But this wasn’t a movie, and Lance’s prediction wasn’t even close because Keith’s answer was to get up off the couch and lead the way to his room.

Keith’s room was at the top of the staircase by which Lance was currently standing. _Shit._ He only had a few moments before Keith would be far enough up the stairs to spot him. Lance’s own room was down the hall and if he made for it, he’d be seen even sooner. Cursing inwardly, he retreated into Keith’s room instead. Once inside, he had no need to scramble; he knew exactly where to go. This used to be his room after all. He stepped into the closet, folding himself into a corner. A second before Keith and Luke entered, it dawned on Lance how awkward things were about to get for him.

Lance heard them get in and close the door behind themselves. Then he heard Keith’s hurt/angry voice,

_“What more can you have to say?”_

Lance almost shouted at how close his earlier prediction had been after all. But he kept quiet, for his own sake.

_“Just hear me out, Keith. Please,”_ Luke implored.

There was no response from Keith, and Lance could imagine him standing with his arms crossed, waiting for Luke to get on with it.

_Luke did. “What you saw last night—that wasn't me. I mean it was, but that wasn't the whole truth.”_

_“What I saw or what else happened doesn't matter. What matters is what this means for us. How can I believe you're happy with our engagement now that I know—”_

_“Keith, I'll be the happiest man alive when we get married.”_

_“You looked pretty psyched to have that girl’s boobs in your face.”_ Keith's voice was flat. _“Are you sure you'd be happy with a man?”_

_“I love you. You're the one I want to spend my life with.”_ Luke sighed. _“We'd been fighting, remember? I went into the party with you on my mind. I hate when we fight. All I wanted was to get the party over with.”_

_“Why would you even go to a bachelor party if you're happy with me?”_ Keith shouted. _“The whole point of those is to celebrate a last night of freedom.”_ Keith took a breath before continuing more calmly, _“I don’t want you to feel like you’re losing your freedom by marrying me.”_

Lance heard footsteps and assumed Luke had stepped closer to Keith.

_“I_ don’t _feel trapped. I went to that stupid thing because I didn’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings. Your friends had worked to hard to organize it. But then I was dwelling on our fight, and I got drunk. Like_ really _really drunk, really fast. Look, I was being dumb, and expressed my anger in a stupid way after getting buzzed. I’m sorry. I can’t bear to lose you, Keith. Not over this.”_

A tense moment of silence passed _—_ tense for Lance too because he was holding his breath, waiting for Keith’s answer.

_“Well, we better go see if they can squeeze us in for a tux fitting.”_

Lance let out his breath, feeling a crushing weight in his chest.

Luke thanked Keith, and Lance put his fingers in his ears, not wanting to hear any more. But everything had already been said. He was really bad at being bad; he couldn’t even break up a relationship.

Lance waited until the two left the room, and then a couple of minutes more, before stepping out of the closet. Pins and needles ran along his legs. But that was nothing compared to the knife wedged in his heart.

He was making his way down the hall to his room when he came across Allura and Shiro standing by the stairs. Allura's arms were crossed as she fought a losing battle to bite back a smile. Shiro had a smirk on his mouth and a smile in his eyes. “All I'm trying to say,” he was telling her, “is that I wasn't as enraptured by the dancer last night, and I think it was because I kept thinking that she didn't hold a candle to you.”

Allura looked at him with wide eyes for a second before she turned abruptly and headed down the stairs, probably to hide her growing blush.

“That was _smooth_ ,” Lance commented.

Shiro turned at Lance's voice and winked at him. “The flushed look is really becoming on her,” Shiro said rakishly. “I'd really love to see it more.”

“Not that I know anything,” Lance replied cautiously, “but I think she'd like it if you made her blush more.”

Shiro grinned openly and followed Allura down the steps.

Lance went off feeling marginally better despite his own drama.

* * *

Lance was holed up in his room avoiding human interaction when Keith got back from the tux fitting in good spirits. He came into Lance’s room and sat down on the bed.

“What're you doing here, loser?” Keith asked.

The corners of Lance’s mouth tilted up despite himself. “What does it look like I'm doing, idiot?”

“Moping.”

“Yeah,” Lance agreed.

“Wanna talk about it?”

Lance shook his head.

Keith crossed his legs, settling comfortably at the foot of Lance’s bed. Lance folded his legs to make room for him.

“I need to ask you something,” Keith announced.

Luke was passing by the open door, presumably headed toward Keith's room to look for him. When he spotted the two of them, he paused, meeting Lance’s eyes over Keith's shoulder. Keith's back was to the door, so he didn't see Luke and kept going,

“What do you think of Luke?”

“What do you mean?” stalled Lance, acutely aware that Luke was listening to every word.

“I never actually got to ask you your impression of him after that first day when you met him; you gave me a vague answer that day. Lance, we never make big decisions without asking each other and, this is no different.”

Lance looked into Keith's eyes, saw the trust and earnestness there, and made a decision. The knife in his heart twisted as he spoke the truth, “He's a great guy. He really loves you.”

Lance spared a glance at the doorway. Luke's eyes were wide with surprise; he blinked, then turned and walked away without a word.

Lance refocused his gaze on Keith and caught the end of a sad expression before Keith punched his shoulder and stood up.

“Thanks, Lance,” he said, and some of the sadness was in his voice too. But it was gone the next second as Keith told him to come down for dinner and walked off. And Lance was left wondering if he’d imagined it.

* * *

After dinner, Lance walked out to the porch, wanting to clear his head, but within a few moments, Luke came out to join him.

“Giving up so soon?” Luke asked.

Lance did not have the patience for this. “What are you talking about?”

Luke leaned against the railing as he explained, “I heard you talking to Keith. About what a great guy I am. I gotta say, Lance, I expected you to put up more of a fight.”

Lance smiled to himself as he replied, “Don't get cocky, Skywalker; I'm still here. I just can't lie to Keith, okay. I can't play games when he looks at me all earnest. But I can do anything for him. So yeah, we’re still on.”

Luke shrugged. “Fine by me. Besides, things are about to get _very_ interesting.”

Lance looked over at him, curious.

“I've invited Keith to a romantic evening just outside the city, to properly apologize and also to celebrate our enduring love.”

“Any reason you're telling me all this other than to rub it in my face?”

Luke chuckled. “When I told him what I'd planned, Keith said his bike was at the repair shop for maintenance. So _I_ suggested he ask you, his best friend, to take him.”

Lance felt his anger flare as Luke continued,

“So when he asks you, with his _earnest eyes_ , to drive him, you won't be able to turn him down.”

Lance cursed silently. He knew Luke was right; he wouldn't be able to say no. “Why are you turning this into some power play?” he demanded.

“You started it,” Luke ground out, irritation finally showing in his tone. “You have less than two weeks now,” he added, leaving Lance alone on the porch.

* * *

As promised, the next day, Keith cornered Lance in the mid-afternoon. “I need to borrow your car.”

“Did you say what I think you just said?”

“Oh, come on, Lance!”

Lance had not yet thought of a way to worm his way out of this situation, but one thing was for sure. “You know no one drives Blue but me.”

Keith rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I know. Thought I'd ask anyway.” He sighed. “Fine. You can drive me then,” he declared, turning to leave.

“Drive you where?” Lance asked, even though he basically knew the answer already.

“I'll tell you on the way,” Keith called over his shoulder.

Lance hesitated only a moment before following. What choice did he have? They went out to the garage.

Blue was a fairly beat-up 1984 Buick Electra, fittingly painted an electric blue. She was a hand-me-down, the family’s designated ‘teen car’—except after Lance had inherited her, he’d never let her go, doing maintenance as best he could on a car that old. He entrusted her only to Allura while he was in New York. She was his baby. Lance would do anything for Keith, but he drew a line at Blue. In the car, Keith keyed in an address on his phone’s GPS and handed it to Lance.

Lance looked at the destination. “You're just meeting him in a field?”

“It's a private property that he rented; jeez, what's with you?” Keith didn't comment on how Lance knew, or why he assumed, that Keith was meeting Luke.

“Nothing,” Lance answered, starting the car. “Sorry.”

Keith huffed and turned on the radio. “Can't Fight This Feeling” started playing.

_Oh, I can't fight this feeling any longer_   
_And yet I'm still afraid to let it flow_   
_What started out this friendship has grown stronger_ _  
_ I only wish I had the strength to let it show

Lance gulped, not daring to let his eyes stray from the road as he drove. _Is this a sign?_ Keith hissed and switched stations. “Ain't My Fault.”

_…you're-'re-'re-'re, too irresistible_   
_Yeah, that's for sure_   
_So if I put your hands where my eyes can't see_   
_Then you're the one who's got a hold on me_ _  
_ _No I-I-I-I, can't be respo_ —

Keith turned off the radio entirely, mumbling something to himself.

Lance was thankful; he didn't think he could handle listening to cheesy love songs while sitting this close to Keith—or sexy seductive songs for that matter—both of which happened to hit a little too close to home. So yeah, it was good that Keith had turned off the music. “Look who's grumpy now,” he teased, bouncing back from that almost-crisis.

“Just drive,” Keith suggested wearily, leaning back against the headrest.

Lance was doing just that, but he had an idea. He turned onto a side road, away from the GPS’s suggested route.

Keith looked at him questioningly.

“This is a shortcut,” Lance explained, hoping Keith wouldn't pay too close attention.

Keith shrugged and Lance let out a breath of relief, cruising toward what he knew was a newly created dead-end, courtesy of the latest hurricane. Sure enough, after a mile of smooth, empty road, Lance slammed the brakes in front of a fallen tree that completely blocked the road.

“Shit,” Keith cursed at the sudden stop. “Are you fucking kidding me?” he asked no one in particular, leaning forward for a better look at the giant tree. Sighing deeply, he hit his head back against the headrest and closed his eyes.

“This used to be a shortcut,” Lance insisted. That much was true; but Keith didn't need to know that Lance had been aware of the roadblock situation.

“Well it's not anymore,” Keith pointed out.

“Someone's irritated,” Lance sing-songed. His heart did an inappropriate little flip at Keith's pout. “Hey, I can understand,” he offered. “You're annoyed because you're late to meet the fiancé. I would be too, if it were me.”

“What if it _was_ you?” Keith asked suddenly, turning his head to gaze at Lance.

Wherever Lance had been going with this was forgotten, drowned in intense violet eyes.

Lance blinked. “What?”

“Just imagine for a second that we’re in love. That today was about us. Then what?”

For once, Lance couldn’t get a read on him. “Imagine?” _For a second?_

“Just do it!” Keith insisted. “What would you do?”

Feeling pinned, laid bare by those eyes, Lance did imagine. “I’d come close to you.” He leaned forward, closing the already small distance between them. Keith's gaze never left him as he drew nearer, color dusting Keith's pale cheeks. “And then,” his voice dropped to a whisper as he tilted his head, lips reaching for Keith's ear. He was close enough for his breath to tickle Keith’s skin; then his brain caught up with him and he panicked.  

_“We're no strangers to love,”_ Lance crooned in a deep voice.

“FUCK!” Keith recoiled, backing away in surprise and hitting his head against the window. “WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK, LANCE?”

Keith was breathing hard. And despite how thoroughly he'd just fucked up, Lance laughed. He laughed so hard he couldn't breathe; he had tears in his eyes.

“We were having a moment!” Keith accused, looking extremely cross and therefore extremely cute.

Lance caught his breath to apologize.

“Whatever, idiot.” Keith stormed out of the car, slamming the door shut. “I'll just walk!”

Lance stayed in the car, not even bothering to chide Keith to be careful with Blue’s door. His laughter slowly subsided. He knew he'd just missed a golden opportunity. But he also realized he couldn't just _tell_ Keith how he felt. If he could, if that was something he could _actually_ do, Lance wouldn't have been in this position now. But he also realized the definitive truth of something he'd been taking for granted this whole time: after what Keith had just asked him, there was hope for Lance after all. And _that_ was worth something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The wonderful art in this chapter was commissioned from Amanda! I'm still staring; it's so beautiful!! Reblog directly from the artist [here](http://salamandraimoral.tumblr.com/post/170391550977/commission-for-sir-klancelot-its-a-scene-from)


	8. Green Envy

_ Gun raised, Lance ran through the spaceship, in hot pursuit of the masked alien who'd snuck on board. The alien turned into a dead end corridor, and Lance grinned. “I got him!” he announced to his teammates using the comm in his helmet.  _

_ The enemy combatant did an about-turn and ran straight for Lance. Lance aimed his blue gun and let loose laser fire, but the ninja expertly dodged it all, running along the walls and back over Lance.  _

_ “He's getting away!” he shouted.  _

_ “Good job, Lance.” Keith’s voice was staticky in his ear but expressively cold with sarcasm.  _

_ “Lance!” Pidge called, and her voice sounded odd over the comm, almost as if she weren't speaking in his ear. It sounded more like he was hearing her from a couple of rooms away. “Lance!” _

“—Lance!”

Lance stirred as his dream was interrupted. “Lemmesleeppidge,” he murmured. What a strange dream he'd been having. “I don't have to go to work today,” he added, turning over into a more comfortable position to try and fall back to sleep. He was curious about who that alien was and why he was on the ship. No sooner had he found a cool spot on his pillow, mildly irritated with his roommate for waking him, when he heard her again. 

“Laance!”

His eyes snapped open.  _ PIDGE?!  _ He bolted upright in bed. He wasn't at his apartment with Pidge! He was at home in Miami. Then what the heck was Pidge doing here? Her voice was coming from downstairs. Sleep gone from his eyes, all thoughts of his dream vanished, Lance shot out of bed and sprinted down the stairs, body and mind in crisis mode. Why was Pidge here? He hadn’t told his family he lived with a girl; they would just assume he was in a serious relationship with her. What would Keith think? Oh God, had Keith met her already? His panic was cut short as he got to the ground floor. 

Pidge had gotten a haircut since he'd left New York; her usual mop was trimmed short along the sides and back of her head, with her thick copper curls piled on top. She was wearing weather-appropriate gray shorts with a green and white muscle tank that showed off her slight form. She looked  _ delicate _ , a word he didn't usually associate with her. She was beaming at him, and when he reached her, she looped an arm through his, reaching up with her other hand to smooth down his bedhead. He had never seen her so amiable toward him, not even when they were dating— _ especially _ not when they were dating. 

Physically shaking his head to restart his numbed brain, he finally looked away from the mischievous glint in Pidge's eyes to the rest of the people gathered around. He gulped. His whole damn family was here. His mom, caught between beaming at Pidge and looking cross with Lance; his dad, gathering what looked to be Pidge's luggage; Coran, looking out at her like a proud father; and Hunk, flipping through what Lance recognized as Pidge's diary. If Lance hadn't been in shock, he might've warned Pidge about that last one. But as it was, he was standing there like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar, without even knowing why. He hadn't done anything wrong! But he supposed there was something about the two aspects of his life colliding that was throwing him off. Teresa was admonishing Lance for never having mentioned a steady girlfriend, and Pidge was trilling to him about how she'd just met everyone. And Lance may have been majorly out of it, but his brain did catch the word 'girlfriend' and  _ what? Girlfriend? _ He wondered what he'd done to piss Pidge off enough for her to be  _ ruining everything _ all of a sudden. He just about held himself back from groaning out loud. 

He looked up at his family again and realized someone was missing. 

“Keith has gone out for a jog,” Teresa said to Pidge, “but you have to meet him when he gets back. You can’t hide love forever, Lance,” she added slyly.

"I'm very happy for the two of you!" said Coran. 

"Aww look he's blushing," Hunk observed. 

"You've never brought a girl home, mijo," said Teresa. "Even now, she had to come herself." She shook her head at Lance in disappointment and turned to Pidge. "Well I'm very glad you did, Katie. We are happy to have you! I hope you'll enjoy the wedding."

_ Katie? _ Pidge never went by her given name except at jobs and things like that. Lance wondered if he was still dreaming. 

"Lance did invite me," Pidge defended him to Teresa. "But I know better than to expect him to come to the airport to get me. Right, babe?" she turned to him. 

"Seriously mijo, where are your manners?" Teresa scolded. 

But Lance wasn't listening because  _ 'babe? _ ' Had he woken up in an alternate reality? 

Gradually, the wonder of having a guest over started to fade, and everyone drifted off to their own tasks, until Lance and Pidge were the only ones left at the foot of the stairs. Some of Lance's shock wore off too, and he turned to her with a look angry enough to wilt an entire rose bush. But it was Pidge after all, so she only smiled at him. Lance felt like a piston was squeezing his chest, he was so angry. 

Back in his room, Lance paced at the foot of his bed, raging at Pidge. She sat cross-legged on the bed, shoes kicked off on the floor, chin in her hand. She was watching him with a bored expression on her face.

“...never in all my life could I have imagined you would…. My  _ girlfriend _ ? That bachelor party I threw probably wasn’t as bad for Luke as this prank of yours was for me. What the actual fuck, Pidge? Why?”

“Are you done?” she asked, the boredom in her voice giving way to exasperation. “Can I talk now?”

Lance just crossed his arms and looked away. 

“Right. Now listen, dumbass.” She stood up on the bed and put her hands on her hips, looking down at him. “If you got over yourself for two seconds, you’d see I’m helping you.”

“Helping? This is your idea of help?”

“Lance!”

He grumbled but shut up, raising his arms and letting them fall back to his sides, in mockery of a gesture to let her continue. 

“Think about it: when did you realize you were in love with Keith?”

Lance barely opened his mouth to answer when Pidge’s impatience got the better of her, and she cut in,

“When you found out he was getting married!” She was practically bouncing with excitement. “I think Keith needs to see you with someone else, aka me, before he can realize too!”

It was a good plan, in theory; Lance cold admit that much. But there was one glaring problem. “Keith already knows I’ve been in lots of relationships. I never exactly hid it from him that I was dating. Why should he suddenly have an epiphany now?”

“Knowing and seeing are two different things, my young Padawan,” countered Pidge. “He’s  _ known  _ you’ve had loads of partners, but from what you’ve told me, he hasn’t actually  _ seen _ you with anyone. Your sorry ass was single in high school, and when he visited you at college, you gave all your time to him. But  _ now _ ,” she put her hands on his shoulders, “he’ll have to see you living under one roof with your supposed girlfriend, and it’ll make him super uncomfortable. So he’ll be forced to come to terms with  _ why _ he feels that way.”

Lance’s heart had been steadily beating faster over the course of Pidge’s explanation, and once she was done, he broke into a grin. “Hey  _ babe _ ,” he said in his flirtiest voice, putting his arms around her waist. “Have I ever told you you’re a genius?”

She rolled her eyes. “Yes but now that we’re fake-dating, you should definitely mention it more.”

They grinned at each other; and that was how Keith found them when he walked into the room—gazing fondly and holding each other. He cleared his throat. “Lance, can I talk to you for a moment?”

Pidge drew Lance closer with one arm and waved to Keith with her other hand. Keith merely nodded in response and left the room. 

“Hey Pidge,” Lance stage-whispered, his cheek still pressed against hers. “I think it's already working!”

“Good,” she said. “Now  _ use  _ the opportunity that's been presented to you. You can thank me later.”

Lance kissed her forehead and went after Keith, trying to keep too much of a spring out of his step. Keith was waiting for him by the top of the stairs, arms crossed and a wrinkle on his brow. 

“What's up, buddy?” Lance approached. 

Keith turned to him with narrowed eyes, and Lance was struck with the sudden urge to smooth his brow with a kiss. “You invited your girlfriend to my wedding, without telling me” he accused. “How long have you been seeing her?”

“What's gotten your panties in a knot?” Lance asked, doing his best to dodge the question while hiding his glee at Keith's jealousy. 

“Okay first of all, never unironically say the word ‘panties’ around me again. And look, I'm just concerned about having extra people at the wedding that we're not prepared for.”

“Don't worry,” said Lance, taking the opening, “if we're short chairs, she can sit in my lap.”

Keith reddened and exclaimed “Absolutely not!” before Lance’s shit-eating grin clued him in that it was a joke. Huffing, Keith crossed his arms again. “So you guys are going steady?” he asked in a smaller voice. 

Lance sobered up to milk the opportunity for all it was worth, as per Pidge’s advice. "Yup! We're pretty happy together."

"You never told me about her."

"Oh I definitely have. You don't remember me talking about my roommate?"

"Your  _ roommate _ ? Yeah, you've mentioned her, but I didn't realize you were dating her."

"We moved in together not long after we started going out." Lance decided to go with a story closest to the truth; the only thing he'd left out was that they'd broken up before becoming roommates. When Keith still looked cross, Lance added, "I don't know how you're giving me shit about not telling you when you didn't tell me about going out with Luke." 

"I told you when I got engaged, didn't I?" Keith shot back. 

"Well when I get engaged, I'll be sure to tell you." He said it flippantly, with no malice. 

"You're gonna marry that girl?"

"Why, what's wrong with Pi– I mean Katie?"

"Nothing's wrong with her; she just, I don't know, doesn't seem your usual type."

Lance shrugged. If only Keith knew what his type was. 

"Hey Lance," Pidge called from the room. Speak of the devil. 

"Anyway," Keith straightened up, expression sour, "I have to go and see about...some stuff." He left without quite meeting Lance's eyes.

* * *

Having Pidge home was a blessing. Hanging out with her took about 40% of his stress off his mind, and it served the additional purpose of convincing everyone that they were super in-love. They hung out, played Overwatch, and caught up on their Netflix list together. And every time Keith walked by, they shifted a little closer, turned their gazes a little softer. 

Pidge met Luke, and the whole thing was very cordial. Luke even suggested a double date, for which they went to a fancy pizza place. There, Lance forgot for a moment that she was going by her official name and called her Pidge. 

“You call her Pidge? That's so cute!” Luke practically cooed. “Isn't that cute, Keith?”

“Adorable,” Keith stated through a mouth full of anchovy pizza. 

Overall, Luke looked maybe a little  _ too _ glad to meet Pidge, and Lance was immediately suspicious. The reaction was explained—somewhat—when Luke pulled Lance aside one evening and congratulated him on a good move. But then he put a hand on Lance's shoulder and smiled deviously, warning him that the whole thing may soon backfire. Lance watched his back after that. But it turned out what Luke had meant was that with Lance busy selling the doting boyfriend ruse, Keith was free to spend all his time with Luke. And Luke was taking full advantage, taking his fiancé on dates meant to remind Keith of why he'd fallen in love with him. 

Lance mostly figured this was fine, because he wasn't blind to Keith's very real jealousy. But part of him was afraid that he was digging his own grave deeper than ever; because what if seeing Lance going steady with his own eyes was just further encouraging Keith to make it official with Luke? This was what Lance sat dwelling on in front of the TV one day when Pidge came up to him with a twinkle in her eye.

"Guess who I was just talking to?"

"The bringer of death?" he guessed. 

"Eh, close enough," she decided, settling down next to him on the couch. "Keith!" 

"Oh?" He turned to her, perking up. "You gonna tell me what he said or do I have to guess again?"

"He was pretty curious," she began, "almost nosy if we're being honest, about how we met, got together,  _ and _ ," she raised her eyebrows dramatically, "how many bedrooms our apartment has."

"Oh my God, seriously? What did you say?"

"I just wiggled my eyebrows suggestively and neglected to mention that I'm ace. He backpedaled and started rambling about how he was only asking because NYC rent is through the roof and all that." She shrugged nonchalantly, but the smile tugging at the corner of her mouth gave her away. 

Lance hugged her happily. This was the ego-boost he'd been needing.


	9. Let Go

With the wedding now only days away, Lance was trying to come up with a way to revamp his strategy. There had to be something he hadn't tried yet. He was on his way to his room when he passed Keith's open door and heard the telltale sound of a YouTube tutorial. He was about to go in and ask Keith what he was up to when the sight inside the room gave him pause. Keith was seated cross legged on his bed, his back to the door, laptop open in front of him. From his position, Lance could see the screen clearly; it was a waltz. Smiling stupidly, he stood and watched as Keith got off the bed and started to mirror the movements the YouTuber was explaining. He was clearly uncomfortable and self-conscious, his shoulders tense and limbs moving stiffly through the motions. Still smiling fondly, Lance knocked and entered. "Hey there. You look like you need some help," he said.

Keith whirled around to face him and then hurriedly slammed his laptop shut.

Lance just stood there expectantly until Keith sighed and admitted he was practicing for the first dance.

Keith's first dance…at his wedding…to _someone else._ Lance beat back the ache he felt in his chest at the thought, in favor of holding out a hand to him. "These things are better learned hands-on, if you know what I mean." He winked. "May I?"

Keith cautiously slipped his hand into Lance's, as if afraid it was a trick.

Lance chuckled, and drew Keith closer to himself. "Will you be leading or following?"

Keith looked at him incredulously. "In what universe do I look ready to lead a waltz?"

"Fair enough. Follow it is." Lance moved Keith's free hand to his neck, positioning his own to rest on Keith's back.

He talked to fill the silence. "I only asked if you were leading or following since I have some experience with both, and can teach you whichever. Luke's a bit taller than you so I guess following works."

Keith was still stiff in his arms. "Okay so what do I have to do?"

"Let go."

Keith made to drop his arms but Lance tugged him closer with a smirk. Keith's surprised little gasp was music to Lance's ears.

"No. Let go of whatever this tension is that you're keeping in your body. Jeez, you're like a tightly coiled spring. Relax."

Keith breathed out, attempting to relax but still tense.

"You're nervous," Lance observed.

"I'm not! I'm just..."

"Out of your comfort zone."

"Yeah."

They were just standing there, and Lance's palm was starting to sweat. "Well let's start moving," he suggested, starting to sway and take small steps back and forth.

"Do you want to hear the music?" Keith asked, making to pull away again to open his laptop.

Again Lance tugged him back. "Later. First just practice moving your body smoothly."

After a moment, Keith relaxed a little in Lance's hold and started to mirror the steps. His brow was furrowed in concentration, his eyes on his feet as he focused on not stepping on Lance. He was adorable.

"Okay I'm gonna give you a tip to relax okay? Listen closely." Lance leaned in close to Keith's ear as if about to whisper something important. And then he licked a flat stripe over the shell of Keith's ear.

Keith practically _jumped_ away like an agitated cat. "Dude what the _hell_? Gross!" He wiped at his ear with his sleeve.

Lance cackled. And when Keith, grumbling, stepped back into Lance's arms, this time without any prodding, the tension was gone from his shoulders. "You're not tense anymore, see?" Lance pointed out triumphantly.

"Yeah yeah, whatever," Keith muttered. "Let's get on with it."

"Stop looking down," Lance instructed.

"Then how am I supposed to see what I'm doing?"

"You're not. Just feel the moment and trust your partner."

Keith gave Lance a small, teasing smile. "Trust you?"

Lance scoffed in mock offense. "Rude!" he chided, though the effect was dulled by his soft smile.

Once Lance decided Keith was relaxed enough, he said, "Okay now let's learn some real moves." He slid his hand tighter around Keith's back, effectively killing the remaining space between them. They were now pressed chest to chest, and Lance wasn't sure whose hammering heartbeat he was feeling against his ribs. "Right," he said, trying not to appear as flustered as he was, "now I step forward and you step back, and we hold our joined hands out like this. Then we sweep around like this," he demonstrated. "Think you got it?"

Keith's pale cheeks were dusted a rosy pink. He nodded, gaze boring into Lance's eyes.

Lance gulped and led, letting muscle memory take over because he was not at his sharpest mentally, what with the love of his life pressed up against him.

The two were so deeply in the moment that they didn’t notice two people at the door backing away out into the hall. Pidge and Luke had coincidentally converged onto Keith's room at once and, seeing the slow-dancing, had decided not to interrupt.

"They look so nice together," Pidge mused. Then realizing she'd said it out loud, she laughed nervously. "If I didn't know better, I might be worried."

Luke gave her a knowing smile. "I wish I had a ride-or-die friend like you."

Pidge grinned back, the flattery keeping her hackles from rising. "Lance should hear you say that. He really needs to appreciate a friend—I mean girlfriend—like me more."

Luke shook his head and chuckled good-naturedly. "You don't have to keep up the act with me."

"I—I don't know what you mean."

"It's okay, Katie. I know. I know what Lance is doing, and I know why you're here."

"Oh?" She was wondering whether Luke was referring to what she thought he was referring to.

"Yeah I figured it out after the bachelor party fiasco. Lance admitted it to me, so honestly, you can drop the act."

"Oh." Pidge smiled cautiously, and he returned her smile sincerely.

"If you don't mind, can I ask you a question?" He waited for her to nod before continuing. "How can you be sure you're on the right side of this?"

They were well out of earshot now but still standing in view of Keith's door, and Pidge looked in at the bickering dancers. "Look at them. You can tell from a mile away that these dorks belong together."

Luke followed her gaze. "I don't think people belong together just because they grew up together."

"I mean it's not just that," she said, adjusting her glasses. "It doesn't matter what you or I think. What matters is what Keith wants."

Luke looked at Keith and Lance again. "You're right. What _does_ he want?"

Meanwhile, in the room, Keith had just stepped on Lance's toes for the umpteenth time. "Ugh, I told you, I need to see what I'm doing,"  At least at first."

"Okay okay, let's turn on the music."

Keith looked a bit panicked. "But you said I needed to learn the moves without music first so I could go slowly."

Lance nodded encouragingly. "And you have learned them. But you're still so worried about messing up that you're thinking too hard. Trying it with the music will help you to be in the moment."

Keith still looked skeptical, but Lance pushed him softly toward his laptop. Keith bit his lip absent-mindedly as he pulled up the music, and Lance felt himself sinking further. Keith came back to him, soft waltz now playing in the background.

The atmosphere was palpably different now as they joined hands. Lance could've sworn his skin was igniting where Keith touched his neck. "From the top, the same steps we've been practicing," he said. It came out in an almost-whisper, as if he was afraid of disturbing the moment. "Hey. Keep your eyes on me."

And Keith did. Those intense violet eyes were directed at Lance again. "I said you're holding back," Lance muttered, needing to fill the silence.

"She said shut up and dance with me," Keith replied with a soft smile.

Lance chuckled and squeezed Keith's hand. Keith tilted his face up and stepped a fraction of an inch closer. Lance could just dip his head and they would be kissing. A small voice inside him urged him to do it. But then Keith cleared his throat and took a step back, and the moment was gone. And reality came crashing down on Lance. The man in his arms was engaged to get married in _two days_ to someone else. Even now, they were dancing to a song _Luke_ had picked out. What was Lance doing here? _What the hell am I doing?_

Keith had pulled away entirely and was turning the music off, saying something about how he thought he had the steps now. His face was turned away and Lance couldn't see his deepening blush. Lance also couldn't know that Keith's mind had been on Pidge when he'd stepped away from Lance.

And so they both turned away from each other, each thinking the other was taken, each chiding himself for acting selfish.

* * *

That evening after dinner, Pidge walked into Lance's room with purpose. "Hey, we're sharing this room. You can't just hog it all to yourself." Lance looked up at her from where he was sitting cross-legged on the bed but didn't reply, so she continued, concern evident even in her biting tone. "You've been holed up in here for most of the day; what's going on?"

"Did you want something?" he asked, in lieu of having to answer her.

She glared for a moment before allowing the change of topic. "Yes actually. I wanted to tell you that I saw you and Keith dancing earlier, and..." she trailed off, coming to sit on the edge of the bed. "It was just so obvious to me from his body language that.... Look Lance, you need to tell him."

"I can't," said Lance, and he was surprised that his voice didn't break because his throat felt so heavy.

"Why not?"

It was a fair question, should've been a _simple_ question, but, "I don't know." His voice did shake this time.

Pidge watched him, trying to read his expression. She looked contemplative for a moment before saying, "Fine. Then I'll tell him for you."

"No!"

"Lance, he needs to know! Plus you'll never be able to forgive yourself if you don't even try to talk to him."

"Pidge. Please. Don't."

She saw the pleading in his eyes and looked very confused, like she wanted to ask but was afraid of his answer. "Okay. I won't. But in that case, you don't need me here anymore. I'm going back home tomorrow,” she said. “If you won't do anything, then there's nothing left to stay for." She gave him one last searching look, as if waiting for him to say something. When he didn't, she went to the dresser and started packing her clothes.

Lance didn't even have the heart to stop her.


	10. Pidge

As promised, Pidge booked her flight that same night; and the following day, she was all packed and ready to leave. Part of her was pissed at Lance for what she saw as a cop-out. After all the sabotage, Lance was just going to back off? Without even  _ trying _ to tell Keith how he felt? But another part of her felt that if she left, Lance would be alone with his thoughts and that boy had a  _ need _ to talk constantly; he might actually talk to Keith at the last minute if he had no other option. 

Trying to stay positive, she pulled her luggage out to the foyer and found Keith scribbling away at the table. She walked over to say goodbye. "Hey! I'm about to head out  My Uber is on its way."

Keith offered a friendly smile. "Wish you could've stayed another day. You would've gotten to be at the wedding." 

"I wish, but my brother said it was an emergency," she lied vaguely. "Sorry, man."

Keith shook his head. "No problem! Family first. Boyfriend’s friend second." 

"Yeah. Hey, uh, there's something you should know." She didn't know if saying it would serve any purpose, but Keith deserved at least the part of the truth that was hers to tell. "Lance isn't actually my boyfriend."

"I don't understand." He looked baffled. Was he seriously just as oblivious as Lance? Why did she have to spell everything out for everyone? 

She held back a sigh. "We're just friends. And roommates of course. We dated a long time ago, for like a week. But we realized pretty soon that we work better as friends."

Keith looked like he'd just been told two and two were five. "Then why did you two...." 

Pidge shrugged. "We mess with each other like that. It's how we've always been." She hesitated a moment before deciding to push her luck. "To tell you the truth, Lance has never fallen in love after moving out of Miami." 

"Why not?" Keith had turned very very serious, his notes—which Pidge could now see were his vows—forgotten. 

"Because he hasn't found the person he's been waiting for. And that person hasn't found him either, despite being right in front of him." Pidge could only hope that her message was translating amidst all the 'he's' and 'hims.'

"What do you mean?" breathed Keith, a plea in his voice that reminded Pidge of Lance the previous night. 

"That's not for me to say," she replied softly, willing him to understand. Because Lance was an idiot but if Keith could be the smart one, this wouldn't have to end badly. "But you're his best and oldest friend. You should know him better than anyone." She gave him a knowing look just as she felt her phone vibrate in her pocket. "My Uber's here. Take care, Keith." 

"Bye, Katie."

"You can call me Pidge," she smiled. 

A beat, and then it was returned.


	11. Decisions

Lance had managed to avoid Keith for a whole day. He knew that if they came face-to-face, he would lose his resolve for what he was about to do. Pidge had left. The wedding was tomorrow. And Lance had made up his mind. 

He texted Luke, who agreed to meet him in his hotel lobby. When he walked in through the revolving doors, he saw Luke stepping out of the elevator in a casual sweater. They met in the middle. "Well this is…interesting," Luke began. "What did you want to talk to me about?"

Lance cleared his throat. And with more honesty than he'd ever offered Luke, he said, "You win." Luke looked at him in astonishment, and Lance decided to finish before his courage ran out. "I'm sorry, Luke. I was a dick to you. And I was a dick in general, I guess. Look, I love Keith, and that won't ever change. But I was being so selfish. All these years with him, he never showed any indication of being into me. And now he's chosen you. You're…you're kind and cool and smart. And you're so good to him. You're perfect. And if I truly love him, how can I keep you from him?" Now that he'd opened the floodgates, it all came crashing out—his insecurities, his realizations of the past day. He loved Keith. And he wanted him to be happy. And "apparently his happiness lies with you, so I'm going to respect that. I'm sorry I didn't grow up sooner." 

Luke's expression had gradually gone from surprise to appreciation as Lance talked, and now he smiled, bright and brilliant and pure. "I'm really glad you've come to your senses Lance. I can once again say that I'm glad Keith has a friend in you." He held out a hand, and Lance shook it, ending their battle and calling truce, conceding to the winning side. 

"You haven't lost you know," said Luke, as if he could read Lance's thoughts from his face. "There's no win or lose in love. There's just love. I don't doubt that Keith loves you; it's just a different way than you love him."

Lance only nodded. He knew Luke was trying to console him, but he couldn't listen to any more without feeling his throat constrict with a suppressed sob. So he got to the final item on his agenda. "I'm happy for you two—at least as much as I can be, given the circumstances. But I won't stay for the wedding. I'll text Keith and tell him I have a work emergency."

Luke nodded. "I do wish you'd stay, but I understand. I'll take care of him, Lance."

Lance nodded back. "I don't doubt it for a second."

* * *

Lance knew he’d made the right decision. His soul was light and airy, flying high. Now if only his heart would stop weighing it down with the force of a black hole. It was the night before the wedding, and Lance was holed up in his room again. This time, he was packing his bag. His flight back to New York was in a couple of hours and then it would all be over. He just had to get through these hundred and twenty minutes…. Annd then he had a lifetime of heartbreak waiting for him. But he was trying not to think about that just yet. 

He peeked out of his room and met silence. Perfect. He picked up his suitcase and turned off the light in his room, heading toward the garage. No one other than Luke knew that he was leaving. Everyone—his mother and Keith especially—would have more questions than he could answer. But he had told one other person, the one who’d had him figured out since the beginning. “Hey Allura,” he greeted her once he got to the garage. She was waiting in the passenger seat of Blue. “Thanks for agreeing to come with me to the airport.”

She acknowledged him with a nod. “Someone needs to bring Blue back home.”

“You’re the only other person I’d trust with her after all.”

They smiled at each other for a moment as if everything was sunshine and rainbows. Until Lance’s face fell. But he made no move to get in the car. 

Allura leaned forward, demeanor suddenly very serious. “Are you sure about this?” she asked.

Lance gave her a sad smile and nodded. 

“You told me to follow my heart and now you’re leaving?”

“It’s too late for me, Allura. But you still have a chance with Shiro. Keith is…out of my reach now.”

“Lance, that boy paused  _ Star Wars _ for you.  _ He loves you. _ Just talk to him once.”

Lance smiled fondly at the memory, even as he cringed at how overconfident he’d been back then. “Talk to him the night before his wedding?” he said. “That would just be another selfish move. He deserves to get married happy, not feeling shitty about his best friend’s feelings. No. I owe it to him to leave quietly after the entitled way I’ve been acting.” 

She gave him a sad look that somehow made him feel worse than he already did. “Did you at least tell him you’re leaving?”

“I left him a note.”

“You left a note.”

He nodded. “I said Pidge got sick and I need to be with her.”

Allura stared him down before letting it go. “Well get in.”

“Let’s go.”


	12. Luke

Luke felt like he was on top of the world. This would be his last night at the hotel. They were to take off for their honeymoon the evening after the wedding. He should’ve been sleeping, but he was too excited. What he really wanted to do was call Keith and talk about everything and nothing, but he was holding back because Keith was probably trying to sleep too. Luke wondered if Keith was just as adrenaline-charged as him. He hoped so, but also wished for Keith to get his rest before the big day. So when his phone buzzed with a text from Keith, his heart gave a happy little jolt. 

**u up** **  
** **?**

Luke took a second to appreciate the fact that he no longer had to pretend not to reply instantly to this man.

_ yup _ _   
_ _ you can’t sleep either? _

**nope :(** **  
** **can we meet?**

Luke smiled and yearned to say yes. But he had to be the responsible one here. 

_ now?  _ _   
_ _ just wait until tomorrow hon ;) _

The three dots that indicated Keith was typing bounced for a concerning amount of time before he got his reply,

**it’s kind of important. need to talk to you about sth. sorry to ask so late**

That was weird. But Luke assured himself it couldn’t be anything bad. 

_ nah its ok _ _   
_ _ should i come over? _

**yeah but i dont want to wake the others** **  
** **can u meet me by the treehouse in the front yard?**

_ omw _

When he got there, Keith was leaning against the tree, standing with his back to Luke. “Couldn’t wait a few hours to see me?” Luke asked teasingly, announcing his presence.

Keith turned toward him and his face was unreadable. “Hi, thanks for coming.”

“Of course. You said it was important?” he prompted. 

“Yeah, I couldn’t sleep because I realized I haven’t been completely honest with you.”

A vague sense of dread started to pool deep in Luke’s gut. But he waited for Keith to continue.

“You ended up telling me about your past; and when you asked about mine, Lance answered for me. And then the topic never came up again.” Keith crossed one arm over his chest, gripping his other elbow. “He laughed it off and said his friendship was the only thing in my past.”

The dread was a sizeable puddle now, and Luke felt the need to interrupt. “Let me just say I don't care about your past; what matters to me is our future.”

Keith gave Luke his first smile of the night. “I know, Luke. And that’s part of why I was finally able to find the courage to say what I'm about to. Because I  _ want _ to tell you. We’re about to start a life together, and I want it to be with no secrets between us, complete honesty. 

“When Lance said the only thing in my past was him, he had no idea how right he was. I mean I've dated casually but never had a real relationship until you. Because I’ve been in love with Lance for longer than I can remember.”

Luke had gone numb. He felt like he wasn't really there, that this was happening to someone else. Keith was still explaining, 

“I guess a small part of me always hoped he'd open his eyes and see me.” He sighed as if amused at his own naïveté. “But he was always in a relationship with someone or other, since before I even came to terms with my feelings. So I was never able to tell him. Actually this is the first time I’m admitting this stuff to anyone. It’s the first time I’m saying it  _ out loud _ . And when I met you, and you asked me out, and we started dating, I realized that being with him wasn't the only way to be happy. And you do; you make me so happy, Luke.”

Luke said nothing but realization struck him like a slap in the face.  _ He's settling for me.  _

“I don't want you to think I'll love you any less because I know the longer I’m with you, the more I’ll love you. And I know you well enough to know you won’t love me any less for this.”

A moment passed in silence in which Keith allowed Luke to process what he’d just told him, a moment in which all Luke could think was  _ Holy shit, he’s settling for me _ . 

“I guess I’ll leave you to think,” Keith said in a small voice. “See you in the morning.” He stepped closer and gave Luke a chaste kiss before walking back to the house. 

With no one left anchoring him to the spot, Luke went back to his car. But he didn’t drive away. He sat with his hands gripping the steering wheel, knuckles white, thinking.

* * *

When Luke had first met Keith, he’d been struck by how little he spoke, how shy he seemed. An extrovert himself, Luke had just figured it was an introvert thing. But then he’d landed in Miami and met Lance—and seen Keith around Lance—and it was like seeing a whole new person. Though in hindsight, it was actually another side of him that was reserved just for Lance. Keith seemed to have so much more to say around him, confidence born out of years of familiarity. Even when he wasn’t talking, his face simply lit up when Lance was around. Luke had noticed it all of course but, blind in love, hadn’t thought much of it. But hindsight was 20/20.

* * *

So what was he supposed to do now? Luke was back in the hotel room, all hope of sleep gone with the last touch of Keith's lips to his own. Because his mind was in circles but deep down he knew that had been the last time he would ever kiss Keith. He dropped onto the bed so heavily that it bounced, lying back with his shoes still on. 

Lance had been right. Lance and Keith, Keith and Lance. It was always about them. And Luke was the one getting in the way. Lance had been right after all. He’d known what he had to do though, hadn't he. Lance had apologized and left. Keith had told Luke the truth because he didn’t want to start their marriage on a false note. Like Lance, he’d also known what he had to do. Now the only one left was Luke. And Luke was the only one who knew that both of these idiots were hopelessly pining for each other. He watched the ceiling fan spin lazily. He loved Keith enough to know what he had to do too. He reached for his phone on the nightstand, pulled up his most recent contact, and hit call. 

“Hi Keith. I hope you weren’t asleep.” He didn’t know why he said that when he knew what he had to say was more important than even the most luxurious sleep in the world. He was polite by habit he supposed. “You know how you said you didn’t want any secrets between us? Well I haven’t been completely honest with you either.”


	13. Revelations

The warm summer night breeze ruffled his hair as he sat on the fountain’s edge. Washington Square Arch to his back, he looked out over the shadows of the park. His chest felt heavy and his throat tight as he sighed deeply, shoulders slouching further down. He let out a drawn out sigh for the umpteenth time that night. Pidge's presence next to him was a comfort even if she wasn't really talking to him. It was nice, quiet. But he was Lance. And quiet wasn't his thing. "Hey Pidge," he said without looking at her.

"Hmm?" She didn't look at him either.

"If both of us are single by the time we're thirty-five—"

"Lance?"

"Yeah?"

"Shut up."

"Fair," he nodded, "good call."

The silence stretched on for a few minutes after that, until Pidge spoke. "You made a good call back there too, at the end of the day. Putting Keith's happiness above your own, that was really mature of you."

"Aww, thanks _honey_!" He beamed despite himself  "Mature is my middle name."

"I thought Cool was your middle name."

"That too...." He sighed yet again. "How am I gonna do it, Pidge? How can I go on without him?"

She had no answer for him. Or maybe she understood that he hadn't been expecting one.

Suddenly, gravel crunched close behind them, and they instinctively turned to look.

Keith was standing there looking frazzled, wearing his night clothes, an old loose NASA T-shirt and sweatpants. He looked like a vision right out of Lance's softest dreams.

“Keith!” Lance exclaimed, getting off the fountain edge to approach him. “What're you—”

“Why'd you leave early?” His voice was steady, accusing; his eyes were fire.

Lance gulped. “Uh, Pidge”—he gestured lamely behind him—“got sick and—”

“You're a shit liar, you know. Always have been.” Still steady, but there was something else, something just this side of yelling there that didn't feel quite like anger.

Lance stepped closer. This was something big. “Keith….”

“Look me in the eyes and tell me why you left.”

The ultimate lie detector—lie preventer to be precise. Lance stepped even closer. They were close enough to touch now. But they didn't. “Because I couldn't see you getting married.”

“Why not?” Still steady, even. Almost deadpan except for that edge, that blink-and-miss note of desperation.

It was that desperate chord that resonated subconsciously, but perfectly, with his own, and his gaze didn't waver when he answered. “Because I love you.” Something ugly that had been coiled tight, deep in his gut, started to unravel, to dissipate. He'd said it. He'd mastered his own truth by admitting it to the one person that mattered.

Keith shoved him, hard, with a fist to his shoulder. Lance stumbled back. “Why didn't you tell me? Asshole,” Keith punctuated with another blow to Lance's shoulder.

Lance rubbed his aching arm and met Keith's gaze again. “Because you were getting married.”

“That didn't stop you from all the sabotage you apparently tried to pull!”

Crap. So he knew. Had Luke told him? Why would he do that? “But none of it really worked,” he pointed out. “The engagement stayed on.”

“You should have said something!”

“I guess I was waiting for a sign from you.” And Lance was still frantically asking himself why they were having this conversation now. Why Keith was so adamant to force the truth out of him.

Keith threw up his hands in exasperation. “How could you see my signs when you were always in a new relationship every other week?”

“I didn't know until—” Wait. Keith’s signs? So did that mean…. Deep breath. “Keith, why are you here?”

“Because I need you to tell me. I need you to look me in the eyes and tell _me_ , not Luke, not Pidge, not anyone else. Me.”

Lance forced in a deep breath; his lungs felt like they were about to implode. “Keith, I love you. So much. So much, it literally hurts.” His voice had gone quieter and quieter with each word, until the last came out in a whisper.

Keith inched closer and closer with each word. And this time he did touch. He cupped Lance’s cheek, ran a thumb over his cheekbone. “I love you too. So much it's hurt for years.” His gaze and touch and voice were reverent, as if discovering Lance for the first time. “I've been in love with you since we were kids, you insensitive idiot.”

Lance thought never in the history of language had the word ‘idiot’ sounded so fond. Never had this park looked so fucking scenic. Never had a night been so majestic. There was beauty everywhere now because Keith _loved_ him. He loved him. He was still touching his face, and his hands were cold but his touch filled Lance with warmth. “And at no point in all that time,” he said into the space between them, cupping Keith's face, “did it occur to you to tell me?”

“You were literally never single!” Keith exclaimed, dropping his arms in frustration.

“I am now,” Lance pointed out demurely.

“No you're not.” Keith grabbed the lapels of Lance's jacket and tugged him closer. “Because I love you.” And then he surged forward and pressed their mouths together.

And Lance was trying really really hard to kiss back. He really was. But he was smiling so big his cheeks hurt. After a while, Keith gave up trying to kiss him and just rested their foreheads together. Lance’s grin must’ve been infectious because Keith broke into one too. They breathed the same air for a few moments before Lance slotted their mouths together properly. It felt like he’d gone his whole life without tasting water until that moment.

The city faded around them as they kissed.

“Fucking finally,” Pidge muttered unheard somewhere in the background.

* * *

“I still can't believe this is happening.” Lance was seated on Keith’s lap, because that was a thing he could just do now. They were in the New York apartment; Pidge had gone to stay with her brother to give them some privacy. They were in bed because Pidge had warned them not to do anything nasty anywhere she might accidentally touch.

“What part of this is hard for you to grasp?” Keith asked, tightening his arms around Lance's waist.

Lance leaned forward and stole a kiss before replying. “I don't know, you, me. Us. Together like this.”

Keith grinned even as he rolled his eyes. “Anything in particular about the situation?”

“I guess I just can't believe that you chose me after all. Over a perfect option.”

“Luke is perfect but he isn't you.” Keith looked contemplative for a moment. “I had no idea what to do or think or feel when he told me everything. But he said he didn't want to be the second option.”

Lance had the decency to look embarrassed. “He definitely deserves the best. He’ll get it too; he's a catch.”

“You were pretty shitty to him,” said Keith matter-of-factly.  

Lance winced. “I know. I already apologized to him, and now I need to thank him. He could've just kept the gory details to himself and married you. It's what a lesser person would've done.”

“We both need to thank him,” Keith agreed.

Then in an effort to turn the conversation in a lighter direction, Lance said, “You know what else I'm thankful for? Shiro being straight.”

Keith gaped at him. “What?”

“Competing with Luke was already impossible, but imagine if I had to compete with Shiro for your affections too!”

“Lance, Shiro isn't straight.”

He stared at Keith blankly. That couldn't be right. Lance had only ever seen Shiro with women, and most recently had seen the fond glances he threw at Allura. That man was exclusively straight as far as Lance knew.

“He's pan, like Hunk, though he's never dated guys. He doesn't date much at all actually, just flirts a lot. He's lithromantic I think, which is something he and I connected over because I'm arospec. He seems really serious about Allura though.”

“Shiro isn't straight,” Lance marveled. “I am a fool.”

Keith snorted. “That you are.”

“Jeez Louise.”

Keith pulled his arms away. “Say ‘Jeez Louise’ unironically around me one more time and I will break up with you.”

Lance instantly missed the warmth of Keith's embrace and shifted to straddle his hips, sitting on his crossed legs. “You're threatening to break up with me; you know what that means?!”

“That you're being really embarrassing,” Keith deadpanned, but his hands had found their way to the small of Lance's back.

“No! That we’re together!” Lance announced. It was a concept he wanted to take his sweet time getting used to. He captured Keith's lips, kissing him lazily for a second before pulling back with a sudden thought. “No but seriously, you can’t break up with me.”

Keith smirked, slipping his fingers under the hem of Lance’s shirt to caress his sides. “Keep kissing me and I’ll reconsider.”

Lance was delighted to do just that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Incredible art in this chapter by [Sora](http://wolfpainters.tumblr.com/post/170946026039/commission-i-did-for-sleapygazelle-its-for)! Please reblog, don't repost <3


	14. Epilogue

A few months later, once the family’s shock, and the novelty of Keith and Lance's new relationship, had worn off, Keith had gotten a job as an astrophysics research associate in New York. But he'd decided to get his own place, wanting to take the relationship slow, not mess up anything now that they'd finally found each other. So Lance was still happily cohabiting with Pidge, while Keith rented a studio apartment that wouldn't tear his wallet in half. Lance visited him regularly, and as expected, they couldn't keep their hands off each other. And this was fine, because they were boyfriends now, and in Keith's apartment they had all the privacy they could ever want. They could have each other to themselves. All in all, Keith was  _ happy _ . 

Lance was over and they were having a beer after work one evening when Keith got a call from Luke. They spoke for a good half hour, and after he hung up, Keith told Lance some of what Luke had said,

“He's joined a new research fellowship in LA. He said it’s more fulfilling than working for other PIs like we were doing before because now he gets to pursue his own ideas. He's working on ways of manipulating gene expression of structural proteins.” 

“Drowning himself in work,” Lance asked. 

Keith knew Lance felt guilty whenever discussion of Luke came up, but, “He's doing well, Lance. He’s enjoying these new projects even more than he enjoyed work before, and that's saying a lot. He's…discovering himself again.” 

“Away from you.”

“Away from everything that was holding him back. And,” he wiggled his eyebrows until Lance laughed, “he said he's met someone.”

“Oh?” Lance’s interest was piqued. 

“It's a guy who works with him, one of the other fellows in the program who's working on computationally designing proteins. From what Luke told me, they're getting along really well! They bonded over Lord of the Rings or something.”

Lance laughed. “You're a Star Wars nerd, babe; you don't get to judge.”

“I'm not judging!” Keith did his best to ignore the flutter of his heart at Lance's endearment, because he still hadn't gotten used to how casually it spilled out. 

“What's the guy's name?” Lance asked. 

“Matt.”

“Matt? Huh. What a coincidence; that's Pidge's brother’s name too.... Well I hope he treats Luke really well.”

“He'd better.”

They finished their beers and fooled around for a while on the couch, until Keith told Lance he could stay over because it was late, and Lance changed into one of Keith's T-shirts that was a little loose and a little short on him. And Keith didn't even try to hide how cute he thought Lance looked in his clothes or how right he felt having Lance in his bed. Or how gorgeous he thought Lance looked in the throes of pleasure or how perfectly broken Lance’s voice sounded when he moaned Keith’s name. And Keith was happy. All was well and they were happy.  

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr: [writing blog](https://sleapywolfwrites.tumblr.com/) | [VLD sideblog](https://sir-klancelot.tumblr.com/)


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